Being Quirrell
by Sophie Nobody
Summary: Quirinus Quirrell was a pathetic wizard, but after befriending Lord Voldemort he discovers that all things will always fall in place. Eventually they must learn to leave their past behind and live on and start new. This fanfic was created to fill the gap between AVPM and the end of AVPSY. Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter characters.
1. Prologue and Chapter 1

**Prologue**

The Forbidden Forest wasn't always forbidden. There was a time when it was a place of beauty and laughter. The sun was always shining through the branches of the trees and centaurs and unicorns galloped through the river's stream.

It was truly beautiful, but the place where Hogwarts students could once have picnics changed into a horrid place of terror overnight. The night You-Know -Who disappeared after an unfortunate encounter with a two year old boy.

**_Some_** say the darkness over the forest was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's soul, who came back to haunt Hogwarts until the day he could get revenge once and for all and gain power over the entire Wizarding world….

But only **_some_**…

**Chapter 1: Alone**

"_Dear Quirinus Quirrell. We are glad to inform you that you that you have been Promoted to the Defence Against The Darks Arts post_." Quirrell read out loud from the letter he just took out his owl mail box. "Whoopdeedoo!" Quirrell said sarcastically. "Defence Against The Dark Arts T-te-Teacher, just what I always wanted to be." He went on complaining sarcastically as he walked up the stairs to his apartment. "Yeah, it's not as if I wanted to be the Herbology teacher, no, that post is taken by an old lady with a beard for hair and a nose stolen from a troll…"

Quirrell got to his apartment and unlocked the door, but just as he wanted to open it he heard a loud scuffling noise from inside, then he heard wings flapping. He burst into his apartment just to see three ravens flying out his balcony door. He ran out onto the balcony and saw the Ravens on the shoulders of their owners making a run for it.

"YOU BASTARDS!" he shouted "C-COME BACK HERE! Or I'll…. P-pr-Press charges!" it was to no avail. They were getting away. He just got out his wand to throw some sort of spell to them. "St-st-stu-stu-STUPEFY!" It was no use, his stupid stutter messed up the spell and by the time the green energy burst from his wand, they were gone. Quirrell could only hear them laughing maniacally as they ran off down Diagonal Alley.

Quirrell turned around and let out a scream of anger. All the flowers on his balcony was ruined. He let out another scream of anger. He worked on those flowers all summer, now it's gone. He ran into his apartment, still shouting.

You see, he knew these kids. They were Hogwarts students. Fifth years. Gregg Finn, "Zippy" Robert Kempf and Frank Nurks were their names. They always tried to make his life miserable. It won't help to press charges, he knew that, because nobody really cared enough about him to be bothered of helping him.

His whole apartment was a mess. The living room had bird poop all over the carpet and the sofa was half shredded. In the kitchen the pumpkin juice on the counter got knocked over and was splattered all over the floor. All the papers in his study were flying around the place. There was raven eggs on his bed, which was also half shredded. And then one of the ravens threw up giliweed infront of his toilet in the middle of the bathroom.

The place was disgusting. Now he wasn't exactly Albus Dumbledore, so he didn't know how to clean with magic. He only tried using "Reparo" on his bed, sofa, the pumpkin juice holder and ALL the papers from his study. The rest he had to do on his own.

It took a while to clean the whole place up. While he was cleaning the living room he found the Hogwarts letter which was now covered in poop. And he thought he couldn't get more disgusted by that letter. He picked it up and immediately threw it in the trash can, he was thinking of burning it, but then his apartment would have smelled like burned poop.

He was done cleaning in the late afternoon when he walked out onto the balcony to look at his flowers. They were destroyed, and nobody cared. He just had to face it, nobody cared about him at all. He could feel himself crying, on the balcony, anyone could see him, as the sissy he really was. He knew he was a sissy, a wimpy little professor.

But he will someday show the world that he is more than that. He'll show them, somehow.


	2. Chapter 2: Chocolate Frogs

**Thank you to RemusZaneRedvines for following my story, you are the first, so thanks! I just want to clarify I do not own anything at all, except maybe a few a few new characters that might turn up through the story. And the fanfiction is more like the musicals then the books or the movies, so Lupin was the DADA teacher before Quirrell. And note that, I know Quirrell found Voldemort in Albania (right?), but I wanted it to be the forbidden forest, because that's where he found him in the musicals…**

**Here's the second chapter, enjoy!**

_Chapter 2: Chocolate frogs._

"Dissaperate!" Quirrell said, moving from Diagonal Alley to Hogwarts where he showed up after about 3 minutes of dissaperation. First thing he did when he got there was run to the nearest toilet to get rid of some nausea. He hated dissaperating, but there wasn't really any other way to get to Hogwarts one month before school starts, since the Hogwarts express didn't have to transport any students to Hogwarts yet.

Quirrell found the new place he stayed quite unappealing. He was a substitute teacher the year before for whenever that Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher was gone on a full moon, but nobody really ever noticed him, he never really even met the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. So now that he was promoted to a permanent job at Hogwarts, he had a place to stay.

The bedroom of the tiny apartment was a mess. The wallpaper was shredded off the walls and the bed had scratch marks on the head board. Quirrell was told that he shouldn't worry too much about it, it was apparently the work of the Hogwarts Jaguar, whatever. Quirrell quickly fixed the place up, with magic of course and it was as good as new. New meaning: very, very bleak and boring. Quirrell decided to brighten things up with a few of his flower charms. He took out his wand and started saying flower names making them burst out of the end of his wand. Flowers of every color grew from the ground up against the walls, arching around the door and window frames. He didn't make it look like a jungle; he just made it look, and smell, beautiful.

He stopped to stare out the window for a while. Through the blurry faded glass he could see the dark, dead trees of the Forbidden Forest. Then he remembered the tales and rumors he heard. It was always an ambition of him to go to the forest and find the remaining piece of the Dark Lord's soul, if he could do that and help the Dark Lord in some way get revenge, the Dark Lord will probably make Quirrell his right hand man, or left hand, Quirrell wasn't exactly sure which hand was the Dark Lord's best, but hopefully he'll be one of that hands' man. Then the world will see how intelligent and powerful he really is! Quirrell didn't see why he couldn't start his search right away so he ran out the apartment to the kitchen. He knew the kitchen had a back door he could slip out.

Quirrell was still running when, at the kitchen door, he bumped into Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster. "I'm s-s-so sorry!" Quirrell stuttered. "No it's my fault." The Headmaster apologized with his cheeks stuffed with chocolate. "Say…" Dumbledore said swallowing the chocolate "… you're the new Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher, Squirinus Squirrel right?" Quirrell was stunned and stood there stuttering for a moment. "Uh, n-n-no, it's Q-quirrell, Q-q-qu-quirinus Quirrell." He managed to say. Dumbledore stuffed the rest of his Chocolate Cauldron in his mouth, and then responded. "Cool. I'm Albus Dumbledore… you already knew that" Quirrell didn't realize, but he was staring at the Headmaster's robes, they were bright red of color and he could just make out the Wild Cat crest t-shirt from High school musical underneath. "But you will call me Dumbledore, OR ELSE!" Quirrell stopped staring and jumped at Dumbledore's sudden outburst. "I'm sorry... Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Candy Bean?" Dumbledore asked holding out a bag of sickly colored beans.

"Uh, n-no th-thanks Headmaster, you know I'm not-t-t a s-student anymore." Quirrell said. Dumbledore eyed him for a moment then took out a single chocolate frog from his pocket. Quirrell looked at the delicious frog, Dumbledore was making it hard for him to resist. Quirrell loved chocolate frogs. "Okay!" Quirrell said with a smile and reached out to take the frog. "Ah!" Dumbledore stopped him and showed him the bag of beans. Quirrell hesitated and took a bean from the bag. He then looked at Dumbledore with an expression of mercy, but put the bean in his mouth. His face cringed at the flavour. "What did you get?" Dumbledore asked taking one himself. "Raven poop" Quirrell answered, remembering the happenings from the day before. "That's gross" Dumbledore said and ate his, his face immediately lost expression. "What d-did you get?" Quirrell asked. "Rotten Pumpkin juice…" Dumbledore said with a disgusted expression "…You know, last year's Defence Against The Dark Arts Teacher had found a poopy flavoured one right after a quidditch game, he ran around the field screaming 'I just ate shit!' for like, 15 minutes, it was disgusting, but hilarious!" they both laughed for a moment and then Quirrell looked at the chocolate frog with a mischievous smile.

A few minutes later you could see Dumbledore and Quirrell running through the hallways, chasing a very much alive chocolate frog. Both of them looked like total morons acting like children as they ran down the hallways screaming and laughing. Yes, completely like children, but they were not children, they were grown men, obviously not as active as children, so eventually they had to stop to rest and breathe again. "You're right Quirrell, we're not students anymore…" Dumbledore said, out of breath. Then Quirrell looked at him, smiled, and took out his wand "You're damn right we're not!" Dumbledore let out a loud chuckle and took out The Elder Wand. "Stupefy!" he cast the spell at the frog, but he missed. Quirrell tried too, "Pertrificus Totalus!" he also missed. Dumbledore tried again "Expelliarmus!" it did nothing. Quirrell looked at him and said, "What are you going to do? Disarm a frog? My turn." He took a while to aim and then…

"Flippendo!" the frog flipped over onto its back. Both of them started laughing, they found this very amusing.

"Flippendo!"

Back onto its tummy

"FLIPPENDO!"

On its back

"Flip-pen-DOOO!"

On its tummy

"Jelly-legs Jinx!" Dumbledore shouted. Instantly the frog's legs turned into jelly and it started waddling around. The two grown-up, highly educated men were now rolling on the floor laughing so hard they looked totally demented. They tried out a few other spells too. They made it dance, they made it sing. They made it smaller, they made it bigger. They made it split up into two frogs. They made the two frogs dance with each other. Then the real frog ate the other one… they didn't make that happen. They froze it, then they put it on fire (and put the fire out). They even made it eat a Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean, all though they didn't know what it got, it was just hilarious to see the frog shaking it's head and throwing up from the taste.

This went on for a long time before they got bored with levitating it with 'Wingardium Leviosa' and Quirrell decided to eat the thing and get it over with."So Quirrell, why did you want to go to the kitchen?" Dumbledore asked. Suddenly Quirrell's whole body went stiff, but he quickly thought of an answer. "well… I wanted t-t-to go s-s-se-see Hagrid to discuss th-the cr-cre-creatures I want to use in class this year." Dumbledore gave a big smile "It's your lucky day, because I wanted to go down to Hagrid's too. I want to ask him about something… someone. So I'll walk with you." Quirrell's heart sank, he really didn't want to meet Hagrid, he was actually quite afraid of him. But Quirrell couldn't say no now.

Quirrell didn't know what to do, so he did what he always did to get out of a sticky situation. He fainted, right on the spot, in the kitchen, in front of his boss. Dumbledore quickly rushed him to the hospital wing. At the hospital wing they laid him on a very uncomfortable white hospital bed. He really didn't know how to escape now. He was thinking of a way when after a while, Dumbledore left. All he could hear (he was still in a fake faint state) was "Get better Quirrell. Dissaperate!" and then all the nurses said "Oh Magic!"

Quirrell was puzzled; you can't dissaperate OUT of Hogwarts, can you? If he knew that he could, then he would've already escaped, but he wasn't sure if he could. He quickly opened one eye to see that all the nurses were gone. Now was his chance. He softly murmured "Dissaperate?"

The next thing he knew, he was on a still-very-uncomfortable hospital bed… in the middle of the forbidden forest… alone… the scared wimp he actually was.


	3. Chapter 3: Spiders everywhere!

Chapter 3: Spiders everywhere!

"It worked!" Quirrell said lying on the white bed in the middle of the forest. He ran his hand down his face in disbelief. He didn't really think it'd work, but it did. All that time, Dumbledore lied to them about being able to dissaperate out of Hogwarts; anyone could. He lay there laughing about it, but stopped laughing when he realized his next problem. He was alone in the middle of the forbidden forest and didn't really think about his next step. He got up from the bed and looked around him. He couldn't really see through the thick fog around him. The forest was dark, obviously, but also very cold and… deserted. There wasn't a creature in sight, but then again, Quirrell couldn't really see.

He walked forward into the white fog, but turned back to save one last glance at the hospital bed, all of the sudden it looked very comfortable. He walked further into the fog and he realized it was actually getting darker. How stupid of him_, take out your wand, IDIOT_. He thought to himself and reached for his wand. He couldn't remember in which pocket of his robes he put it, but as he was searching he could hear a creepy noise. Crawling… Creeping… ticking… the spooky sound of the pattering of eight feet that sent shivers down one's spine. The hair at the back of Quirrell's neck stood on end. He finally found his wand and pulled it out.

"Lumos Maxima!" he was surrounded. The sight he saw was much worse than he expected. It was approximately 12 man sized spiders that were surrounding him. "AAGH! It's an ICKY BUG!" Quirrell screeched as one spider advanced towards him. Quirrell fainted, for real this time. That's right, Quirinus Quirrell was unconscious before the spider even got close, never mind touched him!

Quirrell woke up, he didn't think he'd wake up, but he woke up. He was in a nest; a huge, humongous tunnel in the ground. His legs and arms were tangled in a large, gluey web. "Help…" he softy whimpered "I'm in a weird situation…" he looked around him only to find not a single spider in sight. He couldn't understand. First he woke up ALIVE, and now all the spiders are gone. He attempted to break loose from his cobweb chains, but just as he got his hopes high he heard the loudest cracking of old dead tree branches and cobwebs as a GIANT spider emerged from his tree root nest in front of Quirrell. This spider was bigger than any man sized spider Quirrell has ever seen.

"AAAAHHHHHHHGGGGGG! Quirrell screeched at the top of his lungs. "Ha, ha, ha, ha…" The giant spider chuckled "Why, hello there puny little human." The spider growled. Quirrell was now shaking so much the web he was tangled in was vibrating. He could see his entire life flashing before his eyes… it was damn boring! "OH PLEASE!" Quirrell yelled. "P-Please just kill me fast, I d-don't want t-t-to die in vain!" Quirrell said pulling on the cobwebs, making an effort to break loose. "Ha, ha, ha…" the spider chuckled again. "Oh no puny human, I won't eat you… yet. I'm glad you're here actually, but not for dinner, but for company." The Spider moved closer to Quirrell. "You see human, I haven't had a decant conversation with another being in years, because all my children, well, let's just say they can't really talk. My name is Aragog." The spider introduced himself.

_Oh Dear_ Quirrell thought. He heard about this spider before (It's the reason why Quirrell was afraid of Hagrid), and it was true, it's been years since he had a nice chat with another human, but it's also been years since he had a nice snack. "P-p-please t-t-t-to m-m-meet you?" Quirrell lied. "Ha, ha, ha, you're a funny human. Ha, ha. What's your name?" Aragog asked. Quirrell really didn't want to tell him his name, but he didn't have a choice, if he lied the spider will eat him, but if he told the truth the spider would eat him. So either way, it'll be the last time he'll say his own name. "Q-q-quirrell…"

"Oh that's a nice name! tell me, uh, Quirrell, what do you do for a living?" The spider asked trying to start a conversation. "I'm a t-t-teacher" Quirrell answered. "At that fancy Hogwarts Human School next door?" Aragog said. "y-y-yes." Aragog looked happy with his conversation. "That's cool, cool. Teachers are cool." Aragog said "Y-yes" Quirrell agreed. He didn't want to get on Aragog's bad side. "But Quirrell, if you have such a nice place to… hide in the school. Why did my cousin find you in the middle of the forbidden forest?" Aragog was now so close to Quirrell, Quirrell could see his own reflection in all Aragog's eight black eyes. Quirrell could sense that this conversation was coming to an end so he tried to change the subject. "Oh that was your cousin? How nice" Aragog became impatient.

"DON'T TRY TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT QUIRRELL!" Aragog yelled. Quirrell could see millions of little and large spiders crawling and climbing out and down the tunnels and walls of the nest. A thousand shivers went down his spine. "I-I-I…" He stuttered, and then he found the courage "I CAME SEARCHING FOR… **_VOLDEMORT_**" there, he said it, the name that should not be spoken; the name of the dark lord. The name Hagrid can't spell... _Voldemort..._

Aragog and his children went silent for a second, but then Aragog shook it off and continued. "Well Quirrell, you're going to have to put your search party to an end… I'm going to eat you now." Quirrell couldn't breathe, his body was shaking so badly he couldn't even faint! Spiders of all sizes started crawling onto the big web and five smaller spiders were already crawling up Quirrell's legs. A spider jumped onto Quirrell's head and he started screaming in terror. Suddenly there was a loud bang and the room grew ever colder and darker.

The nest fell silent. The spiders stopped dead in their tracks to listen. "wha-was-da?" one of the older spiders asked. "I don't know. It sounded like some kind sonic boom, as if something was breaking the sound barrier…" Aragog said. A black mist flashed into nest, spinning inside the nest creating a strong whirlwind. Some spiders flew up in the air and others made a break for it. Aragog retreated back into his bed of dead tree roots in fear. Horrible screaming and screeching could be heard from thousands of spiders in the nest. Quirrell finally broke loose, and he too decided to run for the exit.

He escaped from the nest, running as fast as he could through the dead trees of the forest until he was stopped dead in his tracks when the black mist suddenly appeared in front of him. It gave Quirrell a shock and he fell backwards, flat against the ground. "Please don't kill me!" Quirrell shouted and the mist moved closer. "Who are you?" The mist asked. Its voice sounded distance, but near. "Q-q-q-quirrell…" Quirrell said. He was glad he could say it again. "Quirrell…" the mist said, tasting the consonants and vowels of his name. The way he said it made Quirrell feel calm, as if… never mind. "You're a brave man Quirrell" The mist said. Quirrell was puzzled. "You're brave for speaking my name"

Quirrell couldn't believe it. He actually found him. He didn't think he'd succeed, he didn't think he'd fail either. He just thought he'd get killed or eaten. But SHIT, he did it! "Thank you my lord." He said. His stutter was completely gone, because Voldemort was nice to him. "Yes, but Quirrell, why did you want to find me?" Voldemort asked. Quirrell got up onto his feet and looked at the mist "I wanted to help you regain power my lord." He said. "Well Quirrell… how do you propose we do that?" Voldemort asked, thinking he asked Quirrell a trick question. But Quirrell wasn't an idiot, he had thought about this before. "Harry Potter, my lord, is attending his second year at Hogwarts this year."

"What? SECOND YEAR?" Voldemort asked, sounding upset. Quirrell nodded. "NO! NO! NO! UGH! I can't believe I missed it! NO! Now Potter had a perfect, happy, lovely, carefree first year! Dammit!" Quirrell could hear Voldemort was clearly upset about this. "Don't worry my lord; Harry Potter was perfectly occupied by a few Death Eaters last year." Voldemort cooled down. "Really? Cool! That's great! Well Quirrell what are we going to about Harry Potter? I'm in no condition to appear in public… or even harm the boy. All I can do is make loud noises and make stuff smell bad…" They both sat there in silence, thinking. Then Quirrell finally got an idea. "My lord, I can be your human puppet." Voldemort looked at him, puzzled.

"I mean, you have the power, I have a wand, a body…"

"… No, still don't get it…"

**"Put them together and what have you got!?"**

Quirrell walked back through the dead trees of the Forbidden Forest. He walked slowly; his whole-self felt… heavier. Just a couple of minutes ago his life changed forever. He now had gained another face. This face wasn't his, but was on the back of his head. _Oh Dear_, Quirrell thought to himself_. This was a bad idea, now I have an angry dark lord at the back of my head. What did I drag myself into?!_

"Quirrell…" A voice said from the back of Quirrell's head. "What are we going to do about this? ME! On the back of your head?" Quirrell didn't really think about this when he agreed that Voldemort can attach himself to Quirrell's head. Now there was a hideous evil face sticking out from his neck. "Don't worry my lord, I'll think of something. A hat or… something…" He walked on in silence. "Quirrell…" Voldemort said again. "… your hair is nice and comfy and fluffy…"

"Uh, thank you my lord." Quirrell was blown away. He was glad that Voldemort was on the back of his head, because Quirrell was red to the roots of his hair. There was a long awkward silence and Quirrell walked on. "Quirrell…" Voldemort said AGAIN. "… why are we walking? Can't you just dissaperate back to Hogwarts?" Quirrell got quite irritated by Voldemort's extensive asking. "No, my lord. I first have to find my… hospital bed." Quirrell answered. "Your WHAT?!" Voldemort asked "My… It's a long story…"

Quirrell could sense that this was going to be a long year.


	4. Chapter 4: Tournament

**Hello! Just want to say sorry, I haven't been writing much in the past week, because I'm on vacation! But I finally have this chapter done, sorry it's quite short, but the next will be longer.**

**Thank you to all the new readers and reviews! Oh my gosh, I was sitting on the beach and I kept getting all these emails of new reviews and stuff, thanks guys! But I couldn't reply… sorry.**

**Oh well, here's the next chapter! Enjoy!**

Chapter 4: House cup tournament

Quirrell lived off coffee, oatmeal and vitamins for the last few weeks before the school year started at Hogwarts. He couldn't sleep a wink, because not a minute would go by without the familiar "Quirrell" followed by whining or moaning from Voldemort's side of his head. They have been planning his return days and nights. Nothing seemed as if it would ever work. They had a few good ideas though, like stealing the Philosopher's Stone or finding a giant monster to put in the Chamber of Secrets. This all sounded full proof to Voldemort, but a bit too risky for Quirrell.

Eventually they came up with something whilst Quirrell was reading a History of Hogwarts text book. "Hey Quirrell…" Voldemort said. Quirrell sighed; he wasn't in the mood for this. "Yes, my lord?" "Did you know… I'm the heir of Salazar Slytherin?" said Voldemort, smugly. Quirrell sighed again, and rubbed his eyes, he was tired. "Really? I didn't know." Quirrell said sarcastically, getting slightly annoyed. Voldemort, ignoring Quirrell's tone, continued "Well… when I was in Hogwarts I got a bit curious about Salazar's past, and I stumbled upon that book you're reading at the moment.

"Did you know, in the first few decades at Hogwarts, they didn't do this House cup pointing thingy, but they did something almost like it." Quirrell closed the book and looked at the cover. He then continued to listen. "They had the House cup tournament, where a champion would be chosen from each house to compete in a series of dangerous tasks. The one champion that completes all these tasks wins eternal glory, obviously, and his or her house then wins the house cup."

Quirrell was now staring out the window at the quidditch field in the distance. "But that sounds awesome! Why don't they do it that way anymore?" he said. Voldemort then said "Oh, uh, well, this one year… a kid... uh... died in the first task, but who the hell cares! He was a Hufflepuff." Voldemort then let out a small evil laugh.

Quirrell looked mortified, but he knew exactly what the Dark lord was implying. "So what you're saying is, that if we find a way to bring back this tradition we could make Potter the champion of his house and make sure he gets−

"KILLED!" Voldemort suddenly blurted out and started to maniacally laugh. "Nooo" said Quirrell, Voldemort stopped laughing, and Quirrell continued. "Remember we need to keep Potter alive so we can kidnap him and use his blood for your return." Voldemort grunted "Alright, well then mabey you should go talk to Dumbledore about this." Voldemort said, "Okay, but what should I say to him?" Quirrell asked. "I don't know, just say you want to bring the tournament back and place it in the curriculum." Voldemort answered. Quirrell stood up and walked to door, he almost forgot his turban. This turban was technically just a long piece of reddish pink material which he draped around his head to hide Voldemort. All though this turban was special, Quirrell received it as a gift all the way from Egypt, and so he always told Voldemort to please not sneeze into the turban.

Quirrell walked to Dumbledore's office. When he came there he was greeted by the large phoenix elevator. He stepped into the elevator, stood between the phoenix's wings and said "Transfigure". The phoenix started turning and Quirrell could feel himself going upwards to the half hidden office. When it came to a stop Quirrell walked out into the office. The office was huge and beautiful. The walls were cluttered with portraits of old dead headmasters. Quirrell stopped at a portrait of a receptionist chewing gum, sitting behind a desk. "Where is Headmaster Dumbledore?" he asked her. She looked up and examined from head to toe over the frame of her purple spectacles.

"He's busy, uh, with stuff, but if it really is urgent, he's in his bedroom." Said the receptionist, she then laid back into her desk chair and continued texting her girlfriends on her cell phone. Quirrell awkwardly walked around the portrait when he started hearing music. The familiar happy tunes from High school Musical. The music was coming from inside Dumbledore's bedroom, separated from the office. When Quirrell entered the room, he saw a sight that he'd never ever be able to erase from is memories.

"_NANANANA! NANANANA, YEAAAH! You got the music in meee_!" Dumbledore sang along to a pink radio in the corner, holding a purple hair brush as an imaginary mic. "Oh H-Honeydukes..." Quirrell said, gaping at the disturbing sight that greeted him. Dumbledore had a fright seeing Quirrell and quickly stumbled around the room to switch off the radio and hide the hair brush. He then twirled around to look at Quirrell in a cool manly manner and said "Heeey Quirrell, sup dude?" He said, Dumbledore's face was completely red. Quirrell acted as though he hadn't just seen all that. "Good evening headmaster, I'm sorry to disturb your, uh…" His voice trailed off, he couldn't think of anything appropriate to say. Dumbledore thought he should rather start talking. "It's alright, I was done anyway. Let's go back into my office, please."

Quirrell walked to Dumbledore's desk. Next to the desk, in a place of honour, hung a large portrait; a poster. "That is a BOSS Zefron poster!" Quirrell said staring at the poster. Dumbledore then smiled smugly and said "Well, yeah! The best! But that's not why you're here. You wanted to see me?" Quirrell pulled himself away from the poster and gave Voldemort a nice view of it, Quirrell could only just hear Voldy silently whispering "Oh yeah! Zefron! Nice."

Quirrell then spoke "Headmaster, I wanted to discuss the c-curriculum of this year, and I wondered if w-we could bring back t-the House cup tournament…" Dumbledore sat down behind his desk and twirled around on the desk chair, thinking. "How are you gonna fit that into the curriculum if there's only 4 kids in the tournament?" Dumbledore asked a trick question. Quirrell hasn't thought of that, but managed to say something. "Well headmaster, e-either way, would it make a d-difference? I mean, we never work at Hogwarts, a-all we do here is sing and dance!" he said. Dumbledore the started giggling and said "Yeah! You're speaking the truth there! Okay, you can put it back into the curriculum. Hopefully it would make the school year a bit more interesting!"

A big smiled appeared on Quirrell's face. "Thank you headmaster!" he said and turned to leave. "Quirrell, just wait a sec…" Dumbledore stopped him. "What's with the new turban thingy?" Quirrell slowly turned around thinking of a valid answered, but just as he started to explain, Dumbledore said "Whatever, it looks great Quirrell!" Quirrell smiled, nodded at the headmaster, and left.

Halfway to his room he said to Voldemort "Well then it's settled! Potter will compete in the House cup tournament!"


	5. Chapter 5: Different

**Yes, I know, this is very early, but it's vacation, and I'm going away for Easter holliday and didn't want to leav you waiting, since the previous chapter was kind of boring...**

Chapter 5: Different

"Let the feast begin!" Dumbledore said. Immediately all the tables in the great hall were packed with all the food you could imagine. Even the professors had mounds of food placed in front of them. How a person could eat so much is a question that would live on in Hogwarts forever.

Quirrell resumed his seat at the end of the professor's table, but when he took his seat he could see all the eyes of the professors on him. He threw them all a glare and they turned back to their plates, not bothering themselves with the new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher who just made a complete fool of himself. Quirrell sat down and harshly hit the back of his head against wall behind him. "OW! What was that for?" Voldemort softly whispered. "You made me look like an idiot out there!" Quirrell whispered back. Quirrell was still feeling stupid after Voldemort kept sneezing in the middle of Quirrell's speech for the new House cup tournament. Quirrell had to cover up the sneezes by saying they were farts, which didn't exactly make anything better.

"Oh come on Quirrell, stop your whining, at least Potter was chosen from the cup as champion." Voldemort whispered. Quirrell sat quietly and ate his dinner; he didn't want to talk to Voldemort right now. The feast was delicious; his first course was corn pie with a Greek salad. For the main he had a bit of mashed potatoes, a large portion of medium rare steak fillet and he was one of the tiny few who took some of the mushroom soup, which smelled rather odd, but he ate it any ways. Then came dessert, Quirrell already felt a bit queasy, but he didn't want to miss his favourite meal! He took three scoops of vanilla ice cream, topped with chocolate AND strawberry sauce with a green cherry on top. Yes, this magical feast was one of the many things he loved at Hogwarts!

Two hours later Quirrell was stuck in the toilet.

"I told you not to eat that revolting mushroom soup! WOW! Boy, am I glad we didn't get a Chamber of Secrets monster! With this, it would have DIED!"

"Oh! Shut up! Why should I listen to YOU?"

"HEY! That's no way to address the Dark lord!"

"Okay, sorry my lord, but please shut up…"

Voldemort's face cringed at the smell. "Ugh" he said. "Eeew!" he said again. "This smells revolting! Ugh!" Quirrell rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for the poor bloke. He was on the back of his head, on the toilet, right above his own…

They sat on the toilet for a while, waiting for the horror to pass; in the meantime Voldemort started a conversation. "Hey Quirrell" he said "Did you know I am the heir of Slytherin?" Quirrell didn't answer, he just an annoyed grunt and rested his face in his palms. "Well, anyways…" Voldemort continued. "… They say I look a lot like him!" at this Quirrell lifted his head, he didn't really thought about how Voldemort looked, so he got curious. "How did Salazar look?" he asked Voldemort. Voldemort smiled and started describing Salazar.

"He was pale white and didn't have a nose, just to slits for nostrils. It made him look quite like a snake; I guess that's why Slytherin's symbol is a snake. He wasn't exactly what you'll call fit, but he was tall and fashioned long, green robes. His hair was as white as his skin, long and straight. He had very bright green eyes and a snake-like tongue too!" Quirrell listened to this and assumed Voldemort was also describing himself. He drew himself a picture: tall, pale, green eyes and no nose. Loves green robes and wasn't very fit. This seemed to disappoint Quirrell, he thought Voldemort was way more impressive than that, but then Voldemort continued talking.

"But I don't really look like that…" he said. The stall grew silent "How do you look?" Quirrell asked. Voldemort sighed and said "I can't really remember…" Quirrell felt pity for Voldemort, ever since he got attached to Quirrell, he didn't see himself once. "Tell me what you can remember." Quirrell said. It was still for a while and then Voldemort spoke. "For one thing, I don't have long hair; I'm not that kind of Slytherin. I have short hair which I always comb slick backwards. Obviously I inherited Salazar's nose and tongue. I too have pale white skin, like my hair. And I have bright blue eyes. I never wore robes, never." At this Quirrell interrupted him and asked "Never wore robes? Then what did you wear?"

Voldemort let out a faint laugh and continued. "I didn't wear anything… just joking. I loved capes; I had a long black fabulous one. I also always wore tight pants and I was always, uh, topless." It was quite awkward, but Quirrell ignored that last statement "Tight pants? Ha ha! Why?" Quirrell asked. "well…" Voldemort said "I love to dance… loved…" Everything got silent. Quirrell wanted to ask more, but realized it wouldn't help. They just sat there on the toilet in silence, but the silence was broken when Quirrell let out a last loud fart. "Oh dear, sorry…" Quirrell said and laughed, embarrassed, but stopped when he realized Voldemort wasn't laughing. Everything now was so… awkward… and sad. Quirrell wiped his bum and pulled up his pants. He flushed and walked to go wash his hands.

Quirrell stared at himself in the mirror, now picturing Voldemort differently: tall, pale… bright blue eyes and no nose. Loves fabulous capes and always was topless. To Quirrell he seemed… almost perfect. He looked again at the mirror and realized what he should do, it's so obvious. He turned around.

Voldemort looked at himself in the mirror, and Quirrell stared into the empty toilet stall. It was all so silent. Then Quirrell heard something… a whimper, Voldemort was crying, softly. Quirrell just stood there and felt his emotions take loop too. Then Voldemort spoke, his voice cracked and quiet. "Let's go Quirrell."

Quirrell walked back from the bathroom to his room, trying to cheer Voldemort up who was now hidden under the turban. "Don't worry my lord; soon you'll have all the power and might. It'll be easy to outsmart these idiots." Quirrell said, and walked into his room "Fools! They're all fools! They think they're safe! They think they're back for another fun year of learning shenanigans at Hogwarts! Little do they know the danger that's lurking right under their noses…" Voldemort let out a soft wiper at this statement. Quirrell felt bad and decided to say something else. "…or should I say… on the back of their heads." Then with a dramatic woosh, he pulled the turban off his head. "Aaaaaaggghhhh!" Voldemort shouted, feeling powerful, but then he started coughing. "ughu-ughu-ugh! I can't breathe in that damn turban!" Voldemort ranted. Quirrell was now well assured that Voldemort was not in a good mood.

"I'm sorry my lord, it's a necessary precaution. For if they knew that you lived, when Harry Potter destroyed you, your soul lived on…" He said, trying to make it sound dramatic, Voldemort loves it when Quirrell acts dramatic. "Yes, back when my body was destroyed I was forced to live in the forbidden forest; eating bugs and mushrooms and, ugh, unicorn blood." Voldemort said. Quirrelll already knew this, but he felt as if Voldemort was now just complaining, because he was in a bad mood and missed his body.

"Until I found you and let you attach yourself to my soul" he said, thinking this'll make Voldemort feel better "Yeees. Nobody should know any of that…" Voldemort said. Quirrell felt taken aback by this statement, but didn't let it bother him. "Now, Quirrell, get me some water" Voldemort commanded. Quirrell obeyed without a sound and got him some water. "Now, Quirrell, pour it in my mouth." Quirrell could see what Voldemort was trying to do, he was trying to show Quirrell the down side of not having your own body. But nevertheless, Quirrell obeyed again and poured it in his mouth. _Two can play that game… _he thought and said "Your plans to infiltrate Hogwarts on the BACK of MY head is going swimmingly my liege" He said, rubbing it in how useless Voldemort really is at the moment.

"Yes, yes, yes, I'm done with the water!" Voldemort said, annoyed, and defeated in his little pity game. "We must not have any more fowl ups like tonight in the great hall" Voldemort said. Quirrell could see now he was playing the blame-game, but yet again, two can play that game. "I'm sorry my lord, you sneezed!" he said, and then Voldemort gave up and lost it. "I know that! Get me some Nasonex you SWINE!" Voldemort shouted. Quirrell also gave up and got him some Nasonex and assisted him, also giving it a sniff himself. "Wash that turban! It tickled my nose!" he demanded. Voldemort seemed to sound better now that his snake nose nostrils were unclogged.

"Yes my dark king." Quirrell said. Suddenly Voldemort's voice became soft, and he said "Okay, just relax with the dark king, 'kay? I watch you wipe your butt daily. You can call me Voldemort, we're there… we've reached that point!" he told Quirrell. "Yes… yes my… Voldemort…" it felt weird, but Quirrell did like it more than "My dark king" and it made him feel as if he and Voldemort were now a step closer to a friendship.

"Now Quirrell, get us ready for bed." Voldemort demanded. _Okaaay… we haven't done that before_ Quirrell thought. This'll be the first night that he sleeps in a bed in weeks, but the weird thing was, he wasn't sleeping alone. "We must be well rested if we wish to kill Potter." Voldemort said. _Okaaay, he lost it_ Quirrell thought. "Tonight in the great hall, he was so close, I could've touched him." Voldemort hissed. _Oh dear, this is going to be a long night_ Quirrell thought, he then made the bed. "Revenge is at my fingertips Quirrell. I can taste it; it tastes like… cool mint." _Okay, now he's just not making any sense…_

Quirrell stood beside the bed, it felt awkward. "Well Quirrell… goodnight Quirrell." Voldemort said. Quirrell then fell onto the bed with a load thump, plunging Voldemort face first, into the pillow. A moment went by when Quirrell actually thought he had peace, but then… "Okay, I can't do this! You got to roll over, I can't sleep on my tummy," …Voldemort whined. _Ugh! Just one night of peace! Please! _Quirrell thought. "I always sleep on my back, I have back troubles, it's the only way I'm comfortable−

"YOU ROLL OVER RIGHT. NOW! OR I'll… I'll eat your pillow!" Voldemort shouted "You'll be dreaming that you're eating a giant marshmallow, but really you'll wake up and your favourite used fellow pillow will be MISSING!" Quirrell couldn't take it anymore and rolled over. "Fine, we'll compromise, we'll sleep on our sides." Quirrell said. "Okay, I guess I can do this." Voldemort said in self-pity. "Well goodnight." Quirrell said.

"Goodnight Quirrell…

"…Hey Quirrell"

_Ugh! I am going to kill something!_

"How long have those robes been on that chair?"'

_Oh really? You wake me up for THAT? _Quirrell was now getting really irritated. "Well I just figured I'll put them away in the morning okay?" Quirrell said, tired and annoyed. "NO! No, that is not okay!" Voldemort ranted. _Here comes mister whine…_ "I can't go to sleep knowing there's dirty close on that chair! The chair is going to start to smell like dirty clothes!" he said. "Look, I'll put them away in the morning." Quirrell said. Voldemort got impatient. "You put them away RIGHT. NOW! I COMMAND YOU TO GET UP AND FOLD THEM AT LEAST! Make it into a neat pile" Quirrell sat up to have little chat. "Listen, if we're going to be in a situation for a while, we're going to have to learn to live with each other. Now I've been single all my life…" Quirrell could sense Voldemort ignoring him "… and I have some habits, and sometimes I leave dirty laundry around."

"Well I believe that everything has its place. Muggles have their place. m\Mudbloods have their place. And SO DO YOUR CLOTHES! Namely: A DRESSER!"

"Well… aren't we a couple…."


	6. Chapter 6: Hog's Head and kareoke

**Hello people! I'm back. Sorry I haven't posted in the past couple moths, my laptop doesn't want to connect to the internet. To make a long story short here is the next few chapters, even though my laptop did not connect I still kept writing. Well, without futher adue, here's chapter 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 (gasp) and 13!**

Chapter 6

"So the B-bubble-Head Charm is a p-perfectly safe charm for s-swimming or scuba diving." Quirrell said to his class of second years. It was the last period of the day and in a week the champions will be facing their first task. Only the headmaster, professor Snape and Quirrell knew what he first task will be.

Quirrell was waiting anxiously for the shipments of the first task to arrive that evening, that's why he was rushing through that period as quickly as possible. "This charm p-puts a large b-bubble of air around the head of the user." He finished "Any questions?"

A boy with dark, messy brown hair and glasses was sleeping through the class with his head rested on his hand. The boy was lightly snoring, and a long string of drool was oozing from his slightly open mouth.

"POTTER!" Quirrell shouted, hitting the boy's desk with his hand. The boy shot up from his seat and looked around him, dazed. The boy took a moment to realize where he was, but when he saw Quirrell guilt fell upon his face, and his eyes grew wide.

Suddenly the boy clutched the lightning shaped scar on his forehead and started wining of pain. Quirrell quickly took a few steps backwards to give the kid space. "Harry Potter, I s-suggest you pay attention in my class, it might maybe just cost you your life." Quirrell said to Harry, the boy.

"You can't always sit around, do nothing, and expect your red headed friend and his night troll girlfriend…" Quirrell pointed to the ginger boy and frizzy haired brunette sitting next to Harry "… to do everything." He stood still for a moment then tightened up and said. "W-what are y-you going t-t-to do with your dra-, I mean, first task?"

Harry looked around him and at the brunette girl for help, but an absent expression was clearly visible on his face. Quirrell could see the rest of the kids in the class' eyes on Harry. One Slytherin boy in particular was snickering with his two friends at the back of the class.

The silent was disturbed by the school bell that rang. Quirrell gave one last look at Harry and said in a dark mysterious voice "You were just lucky that night the Dark lord tried to kill you. Harry, if you continue at the pace you are now, you'll get nowhere, and something will come along, snatch you off your feet, and carry you away."

Harry now looked much more confused. His ginger friend pulled on his arm and gestured them to rather leave.

When everybody left, Quirrell scurried to the door and locked it. He took off the turban he was wearing, to reveal Voldemort on the back of his head. "What the hell was that Voldemort? All the sudden you talk through MY mouth? Don't EVER do that again, okay! It's bad enough that we're sharing MY body too, I'd like to keep my mind and mouth to myself thank you!"

"Fine, but I just couldn't… you know… with Potter, just sitting there, sleeping. I DIED! And that boy that sat there freaking sleeping got all the credit for it…" Voldemort said, impatient and mad. Quirrell decided to leave it there "Okay, let's walk back to my room." Quirrell said, covering Voldemort up again.

The two walked back to Quirrell's room, but Quirrell scurried around a corner when he heard two voices speaking. "Yeah man those cages were so heavy, like, my fingers are, like, dead man." One guy complained looking at his fingers. "Yo, dude, I feel ya, that Hungarian Horntail is somethin' else!" It was two blue collar workers from Dramania.

"Excuse m-me, are you the people from the, uh, dragons?" Quirrell gulped. One of the morons looked vacant for a moment and then realized what Quirrell gulped. "Oh, yeah, uuuuuuuuuuuuhhhh…" The vacant expression was back. "… oh yeah, we're supposed to find, uuuuuhhhhh… who is in, like, in charge here?" the moron asked.

"I-I am… sort of," Said Quirrell "but the headmaster is in his office, just around the corner." The two looked very happy and said. "Right on!" "Thanks dude! You're, like, the smartest person ever!" Quirrell was quite confused by this, "Urm, thank you?"

They left.

"Master, master, the shipments of the first task of the tournament just arrived!" Quirrell said back in his room, pulling off the turban. "Yes, I know Quirrell, I hear EVERYTHING YOU HEAR!" Voldemort said impatiently.

"Isn't it wonderful? We made sure Potter's name was chosen from the cup and soon he'll be ours." Quirrell said excited. "Yes." said Voldemort. "It's really happening isn't it Quirrell?

"You know, with the plan going so well, I feel that maybe we should celebrate. What do you say Quirrell? How bout we go out?" Voldemort requested. For a moment there Quirrell heart skipped a beat as his thoughts raced _Go __**OUT? **_"I hear it is karaoke night at the Hog's Head." Quirrell considered this. His heart was racing so fast he didn't know what to do. "I-I don't know…"

He really wanted to go, but couldn't "I have all these papers to grade and I've been giving so much attention to this revenge plan that I'm really behind." He said. Immediately Voldemort insisted.

"Come on Quirrell, you've been working so hard all year, you deserve a night off!"

"But the papers?" Quirrell said. "Oh just, give them all B-'s and be done with it!" Voldemort suggested. "Now that's evil!" Quirrell stated. Voldemort laughed smugly and said "Yeah thanks, I AM the Dark lord!"

To tell the truth, Quirrell still didn't know what Voldemort meant with _go out_, so he just wanted to avoid any… awkwardness.

"Come on! It'll be fun! We'll just have a few drinks. And then we'll try to pick up some chicks!"

_Oh… right… girls…_ This kind of ruined it for Quirrell. He just tried to act normal. "I wouldn't know what to say, I'm no good at that."

"You just move your lips and I'll do the talking."

Now Quirrell really wasn't in the mood. He had his hopes so high and then Voldemort mugged and shot it in an ally way. Quirrell let out a soft groan.

"Quirrell…" Voldemort said, stretching it out "Man! LISTEN! I may just be a parasite on the back of your head latterly devouring your soul every time you take a breath, but I can see. You're too good a guy not to have little fun once in a while"

This seemed to lighten Quirrell up a bit. "Okay, then let's just go wild tonight!" Quirrell said. In a motion of victory Voldemort spat his tongue out and laughed "That's the spirit Squirrel!" He shouted, relieved. He then obsessively went on about wizard shorts and mad games, but Quirrell just slapped on a fake smile, _this is going to be a mad night._

When they arrived at the Hog's Head the sun just set and the karaoke was on! Quirrell stepped inside to embrace the alcoholic stench in the air "Hey Quirrell!" Voldemort said. "Maybe later the night you can take off the turban, because, you know, by then nobody will be sober!" Quirrell laughed quietly with Voldemort as he sat behind a marble bar counter, facing a very ugly bartender.

Quirrell tried to capture the bartender's attention "Uh. Hello?" he said waving his hand in mid-air. The bartender seemed to snap out of some kind of daze and shot an intimidating look at Quirrell.

Quirrell quickly rethought his words; either this guy is very intimidating, or very stupid. "Is this karaoke night? Or are we− I mean, am I here on the wrong evening?" Quirrell asked. The bartender's eyes widened "Oh barnacles! The karaoke, I almost forgot!" He grunted and hit his forehead with his palm. He then moved out from behind the bar counter to a small, dimly lit, stage in the corner of the room. On the stage was a retro looking karaoke machine, the bartender switched it on. Immediately the machine came to life with an unappealing screeching sound. A small screen lit up at the front of the stage and words popped up, this was accompanied by the familiar tune of _The One Witch for Me._

Quirrell looked around the room and saw nobody was intending to go up and participate.

"Hey Quirrell…" Voldemort's whisper came from behind. "Yes Voldemort." Quirrell whispered back. "Let's go up and sing a song! Let the night start with a bang!" He said, almost too loud. Quirrell wasn't in the mood to start the whole thing. "I don't know, I don't like this song." Quirrell said.

"Come on Quirrell. Why not? Is it because you think you won't hit that high notes? If it makes you feel any better, I think you have a beautiful voice." Voldemort told him. This made Quirrell blush, his heart was pounding in his chest and he could feel his cheeks burning up.

Quirrell got up and walked to the stage. "Yes Quirrell! That's my boy!" Voldemort jeered from the back. Quirrell wanted to laugh.

_My boy? Oh please! _He thought grabbing the mic of its stand. The bartender, who now stood next to the machine, changed the track to start from the beginning. Then the bartender looked at Quirrell, grinned, and gave him a wink. That was the disturbing moment when Quirrell realized the bartender was a woman… oops.

The music started playing, a beautiful orchestra intro, but Quirrell could only hear his own heart pounding in his ears. He looked around the room; all eyes on him. _I can't do this_…Then suddenly he realized that there was one thing he didn't tell Voldemort.

"Voldemort, I can't do this!" he said, panicking.

"Oh come on Quirrell! Why the hell not? This song isn't even that hard."

"It's not the song…"

"Then what is it?"

Quirrell couldn't bare it, he was breathing louder than the music.

"Quickly, the first verse is going to start!"

Quirrell was breathing loudly, he couldn't take it anymore.

_Deep breath_

"I'M GAY." Quirrell blurted out, he barely finished the sentence before he had to start singing.

He sang the song off heart, because it's a very popular song, but he didn't mean one word of it. He just wanted to stop singing and run away… or faint. He just threw his entire manly-reputation down the drain. Quirrell felt so stupid he wanted to die, even though he didn't show it at all. The audience was enjoying the song; swaying and singing along to the music. Then came the bridge… the high notes. Quirrell didn't know if he could do it.

**_"You have a beautiful voice"_**

_Deep breath_

And then he sang the note, perfectly, high pitched… though it still didn't make him feel any better.

He finished and the crowd gave a loud applaud. He could see that many of the people in the room were reaching for tissues and their eyes were filled with tears of amazement and joy. Even the bartender stood up and jeered, the big tough man− woman, she was. "That was beautiful" she said to Quirrell as he walked off the stage. He didn't reply, because he felt that if he opened his mouth he would start to cry as well, instead he just gave her a curt nod.

Quirrell sat down at the nearest bar stool and ordered a drink. When he wanted to order, the bartender said it's on the house, because he actually got more people from outside into the bar. "Man! You really have a voice!" she said, even though she was a woman she still sounded like man. Quirrell said nothing; he just stared at his pink drink ordered. He fell so stupid. _Way to go asshole_ he told himself.

Voldemort also was quiet, quieter than death itself.

Quirrell felt he should do something. That's just when he saw two of girls, who came in to listen, at the other side of the room staring at him. Then he thought of a plan to get his manhood back. _They didn't hear my "confession", because they came in near the end. If only I could get them to talk to me and Voldemort. That would make him happy, because it's the one thing he came to do._

He took off the turban, figured everyone were to drunk to notice anything strange that night. Voldemort let out a grunt, but still didn't speak.

"Hey ladies!" he called with all his courage. The two girls heard him and glanced his way, they started to giggle and then advanced towards him. The one was slightly taller as the other, but they both had small waists. They were wearing clothes that showed almost too much skin, but looked kind and innocent.

"Hello" the one said to Quirrell and sat down in the stool next to him, the other did the same o Voldemort's side. Quirrell looked please with himself; he hoped they would do that. "Hi, my name is Quirrell" He introduced himself. She giggled, "That's a funny name!" she said. Quirrell's heart fell. _What a bitch, Voldemort said it's a nice name!_

Quirrell pushed it aside and asked what her name was. "Sofia, it's pleased to meet you!" she said with a plastered smile. Quirrell smiled back and listened with one ear to what was going on behind him.

"Hello… My name is Quirinus" Voldemort said in a husky voice. _Oh very smooth Voldemort!_ Quirrell thought rolling his eyes. Sofia saw this and became angry. "Why are you rolling your eyes to me?" Quirrell gave a guilty expression. "No! No! I'm just rolling my eyes to the… uh…" he tried to apologize, but he was no good with ladies. He just kept doing what Voldemort was doing. If Voldemort told a joke, he told a joke. If Voldemort complimented the lady, he did. If Voldemort ordered a drink, he did.

About 6 butter bears, 2 Hog Head specials and one pink drink later (excluding all Voldemort's drinks…) Quirrell was sky high. "Hey Quirrrrrell!" Voldemort slurred from behind, "You wanna go shing anotha shong on the karaoke machine?" He asked. Quirrell gave a foolish laugh and slurred back, "Yeeeaah!"

Quirrell stood up and waddled to the stage. The younger sister screeched when she saw Quirrell and Voldie head to head. "Mama Mia!" Sofia screamed, getting up, taking her purse and leaving, her sister following. Quirrell and Voldemort came on stage and, without even selecting a song or taking mic's, started singing.

"You're so gaaay and you don't even like boooys!" Voldemort sang, terribly off-key.

"YEEAAHH! I like girls!" Quirrell shouted. "Like that bitch over there!" he said pointing to Sofia, who gave him a "AH!" of disgust and exited.

"Good job Quirrell!" Voldemort said to him.

Quirrell had a feeling things were good again.


	7. Chapter 7: Fist task

**This was probably one of my favorite chapter to write. Though it's a bit short, enjoy the giggles!**

Chapter 7

"The Hungarian Horntail! Scariest thing you ever saw in your life!" Dumbledore announced. And yes, it was the scariest thing you ever saw, if not a bit a hungry too! "Yes it worked!" Quirrell whispered to himself when the dragon was released. "Voldemort…" He whispered to his turban, thank goodness he was sitting in the back "… The jinx on that selection of dragons worked. The Horntail was selected for Harry Potter!"

"Yes, I know Quirrell, I hear everything you hear!" Voldemort snapped a bit too loudly. Snape spun around in his seat "Who said that?" Snape asked Quirrell.

Quirrell thought fast. "My word… ha ha, this morning's oats is making my farts speak. Ha ha. Snape, you should really go see what those House Elves in the kitchen are up to. Ha ha" Quirrell said nervously. "Yeeess…" Snape slowly turned back in his seat. _Oh, that was to c-close for comfort…_

He could hear Voldemort murmuring in his turban. Quirrell slammed the back of his to the wall. "Oh my Salazar, Quirrell, is that going to become a habit on an everyday basis with you, it's really hurting my face. And I'm sure if I had a nose it would be broken!" said Voldemort. "HA! But you don't have one!" Quirrell snapped back. "SHHHH!" The crowd hissed at Quirrell. "Sorry, that was me…"

"Oh look Voldemort! The dragon has Potter in his mouth!" Quirrell whispered. "REALLY?" Voldemort said excited. "Turn around! Turn around I want to see!" he commanded. Quirrell thought this through for a moment. He had to turn around in way that Voldemort could see through the slight slits of the turban's material, but also in a way that wouldn't look completely weird.

So Quirrell started yawning, stretching his arms in the air as he did so. He yawned so much he had to stand up. When he stood up he turned around and stretched. Voldemort sounded satisfied "Good, just keep it like…" "WHAT THE DEVIL ARE YOU DOING PROFESSOR QUIRRELL!?" Snape said loudly, now looking straight into Quirrell's bottom as he turned around. "Oh my Godric's Hollow Quirrell, when you fart again I DON'T want to be the first to know! Now sit down!" he shouted at Quirrell, making everyone look at Quirrell's backside. Quirrell dropped his shoulders and thought _Oh no… everybody is looking now, aren't they?_ He then sat down

"Geez and they call me a Butt Trumpet." Snape said and turned back to face the front.

Quirrell slowly rested his back against the wall and folded his arms into his lap. He felt embarrassed. "Sorry Voldemort, you missed it." He muttered. "Dammit…" Voldemort murmured "Quirrell, remind me to make sure it's his hand we chop off when I need the _'Flesh of the Servant'_" Quirrell giggled. "Yes, any day!"

They silently sat and watched Harry battle his dragon. "_Accio_ guitar!" Harry shouted, summoning his guitar. Quirrell sat up in bewilderment. "Is that even allowed!?" he said. "What's he doing now Quirrell?" Voldemort asked. "I don't know. It looks like he is… playing the bloody dragon a song!" Quirrell answered. He stood up to see the scene better. Yes, Harry was playing it a lullaby.

"Hey dragon… we don't gotta do this"

Quirrell's jaw dropped. This was impossible. Even Voldemort could hear this.

_"… I spend my time at school trying to be this cool guy."_

Voldemort grunted. "Really? This is so corny…" Quirrell said.

_"I'm living of the glory of a stupid children's story that I had nothing to do with…"_

Quirrell dug his face into his hands.

"_I just sat there and got lucky… so level with me buddy… I can't defeat thee…_"

"Well kill me now dragon… please… I beg of you…" Voldemort said.

_"So please don't eat me…"_

"Now there's an idea! Please! Put the corny singer out of his misery…" Voldemort said sarcastically. Quirrell found himself grinning at Voldemort's funny cruel comments; he just loved it when Voldemort acted like this, it was cute to him.

"_All I can do… is sing a song for you…_"

Quirrell could hear Voldemort grunting out loud.

"La la la la la…"

As the song played and the dragon sang along, which quite frankly almost killed Voldemort, Quirrell listened to the song and just stood there, smiling at the thought of how far he had come with Voldemort. What a fun ride. A strong bonded friendship.

"Goodnight dragon…"

Quirrell's jaw dropped again and this time both of them grunted and laughed. "That was… wow… thank goodness it's over!" Quirrell said. "Yes! Oh my split soul! It was so bad I thought one of my horcroxes got destroyed!" Voldemort said.

Then Harry slowly moved to the sleeping dragon, dived onto it, and shouted 1 2 3, while holding it to the ground. "I beat the dragon!" Harry triumphed and joined his fellow Gryffindors. All the expression was wiped from Quirrell's face, and surely Voldemort's too.

"What the _Furnunculus_!" Quirrell shouted! Professor Sprout jumped up this time "Mind your language!" she shouted pointing an accusing finger at him. Quirrell looked at her with a _Boy-you-are-stupid _expression and said "It's not a swear word. _Furnunculus_ is a fourth year hex which can result in giving the target ugly warts. Now I would not have known that if I haven't been given Defence Against the Dark Arts, but sadly the Herbology post is taken."

Yes, the fact that Quirrell didn't get the post as Herbology teacher still annoyed him, so he snapped at professor Sprout whenever he had a chance. Just as she sat down again Voldemort made little remark, "Ugh, bitch" Quirrell almost choked on regret, but realized he wasn't thinking out loud again.

This made Sprout rise again, but with more force. Quirrell screeched as she had him in her grasp. "I said witch! I s-s-swear!" Quirrell said rising his hands up in the air. She dropped him hard onto his seat and slumbered back to her seat. Voldemort snickered from behind "Hehehe! I'm proud of you Quirrell, that language wasn't the worst, but it was funny hearing you say it!" "Oh, shut up!" Quirrell said, slamming his head again against the wall.

"OW!"

"You deserved it!"


	8. Chapter 8: His first family Christmas

**A Christmas chapter! In July! Enjoy the longness of this chapter, as it covers a lot of ground.**

Chapter 8

"Oof!"

Quirrell stopped to listen at the peculiar sound… he shook his head and walked on through the thick snow on the Hogwarts grounds.

"Oof!"

There it was again. Quirrell stopped in his tracks and spun around, glaring behind him. He wasn't himself in December, not this year. Someone like Quirrell didn't usually believe in Christmas bad luck if you have been "naughty" that year, but this year he thought Voldemort might change that. Oh right! Voldemort! That's probably the sound.

"Voldemort, you see anything strange through the gaps of the turban back there?" Quirrell asked. he then turned back around and walked on. "Ugh, Quirrell, I can't see through this snow hitting me in the face, haven't you noticed?" Voldemort answered with another question.

"No, remember, I don't feel anything from your side of the head. Who's been throwing snow balls?" said Quirrell angrily, turning around to look back again. "It's those two red devils, third years." Voldemort hissed. "Oh! The Weasleys!" Quirrell snorted and shook his head. "All the professors have learned that it doesn't help trying to bust them from their mischief, it's their destiny." Quirrell joked.

"Hmmmm" Voldemort said, thinking. "You think they might like to join us?"

Quirrell laughed. "No no no, they might be naughty, but they're not evil."

Voldemort let out a unsatisfied sigh.

"Oh, too bad…"

Quirrell stood up from the breakfast feast of Christmas Eve morning and all eyes of the professors turned towards him. He realized he should probably excuse himself and cleared his throat, nervously. "Uh, thank you for the meal-uh-feast, it w-was delicious! I w-w-won't be joining you for d-dess-sert, because I should be on my way."

"And where are you heading might I ask?" professor Flitwick asked in his high pitched voice. Quirrell simply smiled at him and said "Well, I am having an old friend of the family over for d-d-dinner tonight and I h-haven't done my Christmas shopping quite yet." Quirrell said with a smug grin. Then he directed his attention to the headmaster.

Dumbledore gave him a wink and a smile and raised his glass. "Merry Christmas Quirrell, apperate safely. And I have to add, you're going to miss out, I'm playing Santa for the first years tonight." He said with a chuckle. Quirrell smiled "Oh, I'm s-sure it will be q-q-quite j-j-jolly! Merry Christmas!" He bid them all a farewell with a wave and left.

Quirrell popped up in the middle of an empty street on the farther, quieter side of Diagon Alley with his suitcase in hand. He looked up to his small apartment's balcony seeing his roses and lavender blossoming in the winter as the snow softly topped the leaves. Quirrell let out a sigh of happiness and pride of his lovely balcony garden in the bleak quiet street.

He didn't have time to go up now and put away his suitcase, so he quickly took out his wand and sent it off, with magic of course. "Locomotor suitcase to room 3." He whispered to the suitcase, it grew legs and left into the building.

Quirrell walked to the shops and since it was quiet had a little chat with his head-partner. "Hey Voldemort, you're a bit quiet, was the apperation okay?" Quirrell asked his friend and with a grunt Voldemort replied. "Yes I'm fine Quirrell, just a bit… dizzy, that's all."

"Good, we're going shopping." Quirrell said with a slight hint of excitement in his voice. He loved shopping. "Yeah, great, what do we need? It's just going to be you and me, and I don't eat." Voldemort added as a side note. "We need a tree, and flowers for the tree, duh, food, for me, and presents." Quirrell said enthusiastically. Voldemort was silent for a sec. "Presents… for… me?" Quirrell started laughing at his question, but stopped when Voldemort wasn't joking. Quirrell realized that Voldemort wasn't being shellfish, he was dead serious.

"Yeah sure I'll get you something, what are friends for." Quirrell said, sensing Voldemort becoming happier behind his head.

Quirrell walked into the nearest clothing shop making sure the turban wasn't leaving any small gaps for Voldemort to see through. He stood at the entrance scanning the store for the section for the wizard robes with sparkles in them. He like sparkles and from what Voldemort told him, he did too. Quirrell found it and rushed to the shelf with the darkest robes.

He ran his fingers between the hangers searching for a robe which was dark and deadly, but not in a gothic, sad, depressing way. That's when Quirrell came across a blazer, of all things.

The blazer was completely black with a bit of a tail and broad shoulders. The material was soft and cosy. The inner material of the jacket was green with a shine of dark purple. The outer material of the blazer was black with a faded shine of dark purple, which was also caused by the tiny little glitter blue and green sparkles.

Perfect. Quirrell thought. It wasn't quite the magnificent capes Voldemort fancied, but it was something new, and would look fabulous with any shirt. He made his way to the counter, making sure not to speak a word of what it was or could be, because he knew whatever he could hear, Voldemort could hear too.

Two hours later Quirrell walked into the lobby of the building he lived in with nothing but a small, pink shopping bag. He greeted his doorman and headed to his apartment. He made sure to lock the door behind him in the apartment before he swooped off the turban to welcome his new roommate. "Welcome to my place Voldemort." Quirrell said walking backwards into the living room.

"Wow! Nice Quirrell! You have a good taste in furniture. Uh, what's that smell?" Voldemort asked. "It seems to be coming from down the hall." Quirrell said concerned, remembering the last time he had troubles with those ravens. He hoped he didn't miss something that had rotten over the past few months.

Placing the pink bag on the couch he advanced through the corridor. He drew his wand, hearing a muffled sound of wings from inside his bed room. _Oh no, not again_ He thought. He swung opened the door and was greeted by a young little raven which was flattering around on his bed, trying to fly. Quirrell dropped his wand and yelled.

"AAAGGH! You. Are. The. Cutest thing I have ever seeeeen!" he shouted and picked up the tiny bird and threw it in the air, catching it again and hugged it tight. Voldemort was confused and couldn't see what it was. "What? What is it Quirrell?" Voldemort asked, baffled by Quirrell's giggles.

"It's a tiny raven! I must've dropped one of the eggs on my bed when I cleaned the rest up last time!" Quirrell said, holding the little bird tight against his chest for heat, it was quite cold in the room. "Owww, are you cold littwe biwdy! Don't worry! I'll take care of you!"

Quirrell walked back to the living room and lay the raven down on the couch. It was quite calm and didn't flutter or fuss. Quirrell turned around from it to make a fire in the fire place, giving Voldemort a chance to look at the little bird. "Quirrell you do know your way with animals, this one is as calm as a kitten." Voldemort said looking at the bird. It turned its head sideways in wonder of the man which had a face on both sides of his head, but it looked happy nonetheless.

Quirrell, using his flower spells, made a flowery nest above the fire place and another one on the balcony, which the bird could go out through the window Quirrell decided to leave a bit open for it from then on. Since that was sorted Quirrell then decided to continue with his Christmas decorations.

He took, from the pink little bag, a box which grew bigger as took it out. From this box he set up the Christmas tree in the corner of the living room. He neatly wrapped the two gifts (one for Voldemort and one for himself) and placed them beneath the tree.

A few hours later he just finished with his small Christmas meal, fish and chips (since he couldn't bear eating the fowl he bought in front of the raven), and placed the plate on the coffee table in front of the couch. He folded his hands into his lap and smiled brightly. "Hey Quirrell…" Voldemort famously said. Quirrell smile grew bigger.

"Yes Voldemort?" he answered. "Can we open the presents now pleeease!" Voldemort begged like a four year old. Quirrell chuckled and hung the blazer up onto one of the Christmas tree's branches. "Okay, but note that I didn't mind wrapping yours, since you can't open it, it would be a waste of paper." Quirrell said. "Awww, but isn't that the most fun?" Voldemort asked disappointed like a child on a school night.

"Don't worry. I'll wrap yours next year…" Something about the way Quirrell said it made Voldemort tense up. Quirrell could feel this. "You okay back there?" he asked his head companion. Voldemort nervously answered, "Uh, yeah… next year…"

Quirrell turned around for Voldemort to see. He even set up a wizard camera to video tape Voldemort's reaction, which was absolutely priceless. Voldemort let out a surprised gasp followed by a heart warmed sigh. "Quirrell…" he said with a cracked voice "This blazer is absolutely stunning! I love it! It's my favourite color too! You thought of everything!" Voldemort said full of glee, then his voice softened.

"I love…"

He suddenly stopped and realized what he was about to say.

"… th-th-the blazer, I love the blazer." Voldemort finished with a slight stutter. Quirrell grinned proudly, happy that his gift was a success. "Well, I got myself one too!" Quirrell took out another blazer from the pink bag. "It looks exactly like yours except it's a more light rose color, with a dark plum inside. It matches the turban." Quirrell said hanging it next to Voldemort's on the tree for him to see.

Voldemort felt quite lost for words since his former line was a mind blower to him, which left him quite speechless. "It's great, thank you! Anyways… I was wondering, what are we going to do about the bird?" Voldemort changed the subject.

Quirrell looked up at the friendly Christmas present from Santa which sat on the fireplace. "First of all, it's going to need a name…" he said. "I think it's a girl." He said . Quirrell searched for a feminine name as he thought of all the women he knew who stabbed him in the back in the past. There was his mother, Gloria, unsupportive, didn't like the fact that her son wanted to have a boyfriend. His sister, Tiffany, jealous, didn't like the fact that Quirrell could get a boyfriend and she couldn't… hmm… maybe he'd use their names if he ever owned a dog.

There was one person he knew though. Someone who was always there for him, who always cared, and yet, didn't care if he was gay or straight. His very best friend from the times he visited his muggle father in the muggle country side of South Africa.

His smile grew to a wide grin. "Millicent." He decided.

Voldemort couldn't mutter a word. "What? What the hell kinda name is that?" Quirrell felt quite offended that his roommate didn't like the name. "Millicent was my best friend when I was a child, she was the only female I ever knew who really supported me. I only saw her when I visited my father in South Africa. THough she is half-blood, she was home schooled" He finished.

"Okay Quirrell…" Voldemort said, sealing the deal.

"Millicent it is then!"

_'Twas the night before Christmas and all was well_

_When a certain Dark lord, as I here tell,_

_Used to be angry, he used to be mad_

_He lived a life of solitude, alone and sad,_

_But not on this Christmas, he wasn't alone,_

_He was on a back of a head, which he called home._

_Together, he and his friend would play,_

_the whole Christmas Eve away._

_They played with their newly found raven bird_

_Who was named Millicent, so I heard._

_Later in the night it all became a bit boring_

_So they went to bed, and woke up on Christmas morning._

_Quirrell ran out into the deserted street,_

_Letting the snow tickle his freezing feet._

_They made a snow angel, without a head,_

_as this would be unfair to Voldemort, as they discussed in bed._

_His head companion laughed and played along_

_And he sang to Quirrell, their Christmas song. _

_"You like making snow angle, which I would like to destroy,_

_But I know that would break your heart, and so also take away my joy._

_I think you'd agree, this is the best Christmas for you and me._

_We're different, different as can be."_


	9. Chapter 9: Yule Ball preperations

Chapter 9

It has been two months since Christmas Quirrell and Voldemort are prepping for the Yule Ball.

"…Quirrell, what I'm saying is it would be easier to kill Potter when he is alone. Remember in his song he said he is pretty useless without friends?" Voldemort said to Quirrell from the back of his head while Quirrell was brushing his teeth in the bathroom. "Yes Voldemort, but I'm pretty sure that was just meant to soften that dragon up. I think Potter has a bigger ego than you do." Quirrell reassured him. Voldemort was silent for a second. "Are you serious?" Voldemort asked.

Quirrell smiled into the mirror. "Well, you were definitely more respectful towards your fellow Slytherins. Potter treats his friends like tools. I'm sure he never works a day in his life. You know that in that song he said he doesn't even know any spells." said Quirrell. "Yes, exactly Quirrell, that's why I want him alone. He'll be completely defenceless!"

"Okay. And if you meet him, what would you say?" Quirrell questioned him, just finishing up at the sink. Voldemort thought about it and then said "Turn around, I want to practice." Quirrell lifted his eyebrows. "Okay…" he said with a slight chuckle and obeyed Voldemort's order. "Agh!" Voldemort screamed. Quirrell then said "No offence Voldemort, but if that's what you're going to say first then-" "No! No! That's not why I screamed… I just can't believe your banging against walls made my forehead go blue… it's all your fault!" Voldemort snapped. "My fault?" Quirrell rolled his eyes and smiled "whatever…"

Voldemort started his speech. "At first he would obviously be like: Oh no! Where am I now! (Voldemort is saying this in a highly pitched voice to imitate Harry), because obviously he wouldn't know where the port key brought him…" Quirrell interrupted "What port key?" "Shut up Quirrell, you'll find out sooner or later. Anyways, and then I'd be like: Ha Ha Harry Potter! You're standing on the very bones of my filthy muggle father!" Voldemort said in a deep muscular voice.

"You sound nothing like that." "Shush Quirrell! Continuing, then he'll be like: Professor Quirrell! What are you doing here? And you'd be like standing there looking absolutely marvellous in a black cape and your turban. Then you would turn around and pull off the turban. Then Potter would be like: Aaaggh! And I'd be like: AAGGGG! And he'd say, Who are you? And then I would say Harry Potter… I am your worst nightmare… I am Lord Voldemort!" he finished with a dramatic pause at the end.

Quirrell stood silent for a moment. "I am Lord Voldemort?" he asked. "Yeah, but with a drag at the end, like, I am Lord Voldemoooorrt…" Voldemort said, making scary weird faces into the mirror. "And maybe you should bring a flash light and hold it beneath my face-" "No, I'm not doing that. And I'm not wearing a black cape." Quirrell said, disagreeing with Voldemort.

Voldemort let out a sigh "Are you sure? You would look good in a cape." He told Quirrell. Quirrell blushed feeling flattered. "But Voldemort, then if I turn around, it would look like you're wearing a dress…" said Quirrell. Voldemort sighed again. "Let's just go make ready for the Yule Ball."

Quirrell stood in the middle of the great hall directing the house elves to their duties. "Yes, the stage will be there. No! It will be a live band playing! The best of the best! Why aren't you working! The Disco ball is skew, somebody fix it. Put the tables here in line against the walls. The food and beverages will be placed at the side of the hall. Don't put the tables where the dance floor should be! OH MY SPELLS! Who spilled punch on this floor! Clean up! Clean up! Oh…"

Quirrell sat down on the nearest chair; he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. "Okay, five minutes break. Leave" he ordered the elves and they all obeyed at once, chattering amongst themselves as they left. The moment they were gone Quirrell pulled off the turban and ran his fingers through his hair. "Wow, you really know how to organize Quirrell!" Voldemort said. "This place looks great!" Quirrell looked up at his work. It did look fine.

"Although why the color white? It's so boring! And it hurts my eyes." Voldemort said. "Quirrell straightened up in his seat. "It's very light blue winter themed, Voldemort. That's why I made it light blue." Quirrell said. Voldemort then decided to give a bit of advice. "I don't know. You know what would have looked absolutely fabulous?" Voldemort asked, with a lot of attention on **_fab_**. Quirrell just shrugged his shoulders. "…If you splashed the hall with a bit of color. Like… red roses woven into the curtains. It would look... good."

Quirrell looked around and pictured it. "Do you like red roses?"

Voldemort smiled and said "I love red roses. And you?"

Quirrell laughed and replied "Yes! It's my favorite too!"

Wow, that was a coincidence. They both laughed about this for a moment. Quirrell felt very happy that Voldemort was taking an interest in flowers too! "So Voldemort, what exactly did you mean with the port key in the bathroom?" Quirrell asked Voldemort. Although he would rather keep talking about flowers, he really had to find out what Voldemort intended with a port key.

"Quirrell, I thought it would be easier if you just planted a port key set for Harry Potter which would take him right to my father's grave!" said Voldemort. "Yes, that could work…" Quirrell considered this. "But what if someone else touches the port key? Potter isn't the only person at the Yule Ball you know. Why do you think I ordered so much snacks and punch for tonight?"

"Punch! That's it! Quirrell I just had the fullest proof plan ever!" Voldemort said. Quirrell waited for the answer, but it didn't come. "Well, don't keep it on your side of the brain! Spill the beans! What does this have to do with punch?" Quirrell asked Voldemort. Voldemort then cleared his throat and started.

"Now you know a port can be any harmless object like a football or… a dolphin." Voldemort tried to refresh Quirrell's mind. "Go on" said Quirrell. Voldemort continued "Well, par say it was a punch ladle…" He suggested. Quirrell slowly nodded, but then stopped in wonder. "But that still doesn't answer how we'll get Potter to the port key."

"Uh…" Voldemort was stuck. "What if… we made the punch taste like something only Harry Potter likes…" said Voldemort "Like Squirt! You know only Harry Potter loves that shit!" Voldemort said, sounding promising. "No, actually I did not know that… how did you know that?" Quirrell asked full of curiosity. "Oh come on Quirrell. Everybody knows Potter loves Squirt." Voldemort said undoubtedly.

Suddenly all the house elves came streaming into the doors, the break was over.

"Oh dammit!" Quirrell yelled, since the turban wasn't covering Voldemort at all the elves saw Voldemort and stopped in their tracks. Winky the house elf was one of the elves at the front of the group. Quirrell swung around to face the elves. Winky looked mortified and one of the others let out a high pitched yell of terror. Chaos was loose in the great hall.

"No! No! Stay calm!" Quirrell yelled but they wouldn't listen. They were almost on their way out the great hall's doors when with a lash of Quirrell's wand the doors slammed close. The loud slam of the doors echoed through the hall, followed by still, dead, silence. One by one all the house elves slowly turned around to face Quirrell. He just stood there with his wand in his hand, not knowing what to do.

He couldn't let them go now, not after what they saw. Voldemort sneered at the house elf behind Quirrell. "Hello!" he said. With that hell broke loose again. "Oh no, Voldemort, you're not helping at all!" he shouted at Voldemort. Quickly he swept up the turban and put it on.

He pointed his wand at the nearest house elf and said "_Obliviate Minimum_." The moment the other elves saw this they were even more terrified. Quirrell quickly took charge and casted the spell on each and every one of them, but he did it carefully just to erase the most resent event.

When it was done the elves were back, standing in group at the entrance of the hall, looking dazed and confused. Quirrell stood before them, examining if he missed one, but he did alright this time. "Break is over. Well… what are you standing around for? Get to work!" He ordered them at once. As soon as he saw they were busy enough to stay busy for a couple of hours, Quirrell left.

Back in Quirrell's room he sat at his desk and took off the turban. The moment the turban was thrown to the side Voldemort already started talking. "Oh! Quirrell! You should check on how you wear that turban, I couldn't breathe just now." Voldemort complained taking deep breaths. "Sorry Voldemort, things happened a bit fast in there, I didn't have choice but to get it on as quickly as possible." Quirrell said.

"Yeah, Quirrell, that was pretty fast thinking back there; the way you quickly worked the magic on the elves! It was impressive!" Voldemort said to Quirrell. Quirrell took this as a compliment as he felt a rush of pride. Quirrell gave a smirk as he thought all those Defence Against the Dark Arts stuff were finally paying off. And Voldemort was starting to see him as more than an average intelligent wizard.

Quirrell took the nearest pencil on his desk and examined it. "This will have to do." He said. Then he put the pencil flat on the desk and pointed his wand at it. Quirrell murmured something and then slowly the pencil transfigured into a ladle. It was beautiful Transfiguration. Quirrell picked it up and waved it in front of Voldemort's face. "Does this look normal enough?"

"It'll do fine. Now do what you have to do to make it a port key. Remember Potter has to show up at the grave yard where we will be waiting for him, close enough to my father's grave." Voldemort reminded Quirrell.

"Think Quirrell… tomorrow I'll have my revenge and you'll have your body back. It'll all be over and _we will live happily ever after…_"

"Uuuh, Voldemort, no offence, but I really think that all that day-dreaming in the turban is going to your head…"

**Okay, there's a large gap between this chapter and the next. I'm just warning you, the next one is quite serious.**


	10. Chapter 10: Azkaban

**This is the shortest chapter and the saddest. it is more in the format of a poem... without fancy rhymes.**

Chapter 10: Azkaban

Flashes of pain burst through Quirrell's stomach, his mind… his heart.

Each of these displayed a different, painful memory.

**_"Silent slave! Crucio!"_**

Quirrell fell to ground, reliving every emotion, all the pain.

**_"I'm going to eat you now…"_**

Quirrell was shaking from the cold, fright, anger.

**_"Yes, I knew… but I feel different now…"_**

"Bullshit…" Quirrell said under his breath, his voice sounding raw.

**_"… and they call me the butt trumpet…"_**

Quirrell clenched his fist tightly, his white knuckles shone through the dirty tattered skin

**_"… we'll live happily ever after…"_**

Quirrell closed his eyes and sneered, showing his dirty teeth.

**_"Promise we'll go rollerblading and see that movie?"_**

Quirrell punched the stone cold wall.

**_"Oh, man, I promise…"_**

Blood started to prickle from his knuckles; it burned on his flesh as it froze from the cold on his skin. He didn't care…

He felt sadness, anger, grief, cold, hungry, alone, mad, insane, but most of all, he felt no emotion at all.

He spluttered and choked, he couldn't find the courage, let alone strength, to breathe in between the tears.

Quirrell felt he could pull out every last strand of hair from his head…

Break every bone…

And it wouldn't matter…

Life doesn't matter…

When you are in Azkaban…

Yet, as Quirrell lay there on the icy floor boards,

slippery from the frozen tears,

in the cell with nothing but four walls and a door that would never again open,

he looked at the ceiling which somehow had scratch marks on them,

which just made him more frightened of the lady beyond the door

who would very much like to give him a kiss,

and _yet_ he could still hear that familiar little voice on the back of his head saying…

"Quirrell… everything will be **okay**…"


	11. Chapter 11: Shame and anger

**This chapter is written more from Voldie's perspective, I had fun with this one!**

Chapter 11

A Death Eater dance party was quite the sight to see, if you're really into the loud music of the day. Voldemort was strolling through the crowd of his fellow wasted collages, trying to catch a breath from the suffocating smoke in the air and the loud drumming music.

Some snobs describe this kind of music as skimpy and lyrically uninspired. They also state that the beat and rhythms of the music are very similar to those of say… a modern washing machine, which was way after Voldemort's time, the washing machine that is, the music too though! Voldemort's ears were humming from the new heavy-metal-techno-hip-hop-funk-something-somethin g genre.

Finally he made it outside Malfoy's Manor, which was where he lived until he could find a more permanent spot for example maybe the Minister of Magic's house. He took a seat on a nearby garden bench to catch some fresh air and rest his feet. Oh, how the times have changed since that part of him died, especially the dance moves, he is having a hard time adapting with the new age dancers.

He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of… nothing, except if the smell of dead leaves count as something. He looked at the garden in disgust, everything is dead. Dead leaves were scattered across the pavement and there was a large dead tree lurking overhead. There wasn't a flower in sight, must have died out a long time ago, only wattles and bushes, which were also dead.

Ugh, literally the only color in this garden is the white patches the birds leave behind. He thought to himself in disgust. He let out a frustrating grunt and slammed his forehead with his palms, feeling stupid that he just criticized a garden, while his own used to be worse.

He dropped his shoulders and bent over in shame, feeling ashamed that he felt ashamed because… well, he didn't really know why. He never felt shame; it was an expression and emotion he wrote out of his book a long time ago. He describes the feeling as something only people feel who care for someone else and then fail in them. But Voldemort doesn't care about anyone, does he?

He rested his chin on his chest, brushing the collar of his cape's material. He took another deep breath, but this time he did smell something familiar… someone familiar. He quickly realized it was coming from himself. That was strange, because Voldemort didn't smell like roses and coffee.

Suddenly a rush of happiness ran through Voldemort as he realized what it was, or more specifically who it was. He removed the cape from around his neck, leaving him bare backed against the wind, and rested it on his lap. Running his fingers over the material he stared at it in wonder, trying to see where the scent might've come from. He pressed the material to his face and started sniffing the material, trying to trace the source of the scent.

He finally stopped when he felt something in one of the secret pockets. He put his hand into the pocket, but jerked when something pricked him. Being more careful, he found a safe grasp around the object and carefully took it out of the pocket. He could feel his heart becoming warm and happy as he smiled at the single rad, thorny rose.

"A red rose…" he said out loud to himself. "It's our favourite flower…" he reminded himself, realizing that he wasn't in fact talking to a guy on the other side of his head, who probably slipped this into his pocket while they last danced together. His heart sank into his stomach and he could feel tears welling up in his eyes, but he pushed it aside and instead sniffed the rose. The rose smelled like a rose would, but also like coffee, which was the last beverage Quirrell had as Voldemort recalls.

"Quirrell…" he said, it felt strange saying it, yet natural. He also recalled the first and every time he said that name. he smiled as he thought of Quirrell got irritated by his excessive rambling, but his smile faded and a lump formed in his throat as he thought of how irritated and mad Quirrell should be at that very moment. He tears became too big for his eyes to conceal, and feeling the lump in his throat break into a cry of shame, the tears came streaming down his cheeks.

The white figure sat alone, crying, when he heard footsteps behind him. Quickly he wiped away his tears and carefully hid the rose back into its pocket.

Two thin hands were placed on his shoulders; they were warm on his cold pale skin. "Being a bad boy Voldy?" Bellatrix Lestrange asked, she lowered her face to his shoulder "You know, if I was you, I'd leave the taking of clothes for later, it's freezing out here!" She whispered into his ears. "We can maybe warm up later, then I can try that thing where I…" her voice trailed off onto a very soft hiss in his ear.

His eyes grew to the size of saucers as her hands trailed over his shoulders and down his torso, a bit too down for his liking. He swung up from his seat, and as quick as thunder twirled around, creating a tornado of black smoke. In this wild winds the cape, which fell to his feet when he stood up, twirled up around his body up to his shoulders, returning to its former glory around his neck.

Suddenly all was still again.

Voldemort quickly felt in the hidden pocket for the rose, making sure it was still there.

Bellatrix stood in awe and fear from Voldemort's sudden outburst.

"My lord…"

Voldemort stood in all his magnificence in the cold midnight air, yet there was hot, black smoke steaming from his skin.

"How dare you corrupt the Dark lord's mind with such disgusting thoughts while I was meditating?" he said with disgust.

"Meditating?" she asked in confusion. A small crowd started to form in the garden, all the Death eaters were curious of their leader's sudden anger and emotion.

Voldemort looked at all of them through a frown. "I don't like this." He said in a low dark voice and flew up into the air, leaving his black smoky trail in the starry sky.

He didn't know where he was flying to, he didn't care either, and he would go back to the manor anyway. That night he just had to clear his mind. It's been scarcely a day that he's been back and he already felt shameful and angry. Not that that is anything new. Voldemort felt ashamed and angry at the imbeciles he had as followers all the time.

But that night he didn't feel angry and shameful at them, he felt angry and shameful about himself.

He took the rose out from its pocket and stared at it through the black smoke while flying.

All he ever wanted was to rule the world, **_alone_**.

But the problem is not living **_alone_**, it's living with yourself.


	12. Chapter 12: Diary Time!

**Oh my spells! I loved writing this chapter! I had a chapter like this in mind ever since AVPSY came out! So enjoy, and it's** _**DIARY TIME! HIE HIE HIE!**_

_Dear Diary Journal._

It's good to be back; in fact not much had changed since I left. Sure there are a few new luxuries, but I can get used to that. The Floo-Tube is awesome! Bring out a post every Monday and my views are going crazy! And it's a big laugh to think the ministry is still trying to cover up the fact that I have returned. Haha.

My followers have started to crawl out of hiding and have joined me yet again. Even my old school friends are back to help me concur. They haven't changed a bit! Lucius Malloy is still an idiot as ever, he believes he'll make it in So You Think You Can Dance, and he prances around all the time. Mostly he does ballet, amateur. No one dances better than me, The Dark lord!

Yes, I'm beyond happy to be back in tight spandex pants, dancing the time away. I've started wearing my black cape again; oh I've missed it so much. Obviously I'm still in the habit of not wearing shirts. This makes Bellatrix freak out whenever she sees me

Bellatrix Lestrange- now there's a girl who hasn't changed a bit. She's still as fun as ever, like a cat in a sack! We had a bit of fun the night I came back, or I think she did, it didn't feel the same. Thought Bellatrix still keeps on rambling AND PLOTTING ALL THE TIME when we sit in my office at day. I usually don't listen, I daze off into my imagination. I've been doing a lot of that recently, I guess all that time under a turban I had nothing better to do but dream, and now the habit doesn't want to die.

You'd never guess who entered my office a few days ago? Severus Snape turned up out of nowhere and said he wanted to help me infiltrate Hogwarts but couldn't, because he made and unbreakable vow to Dumbledore. So he proposed we ask HELP FROM A CHILD, and not any child, but Lucius Malloy's boy, Draco.

What an interesting boy, he has a lot of ambition. He dreams of spaceships and going to some school on Mars named Pigshits or something like that. Though I don't think he's right for the job of killing Albus Dumbledore, but for now I lay the responsibility in his hands… even though he tricked me into doing all his chores.

Trixie and I finally took over the Ministry of magic after we killed the Minister in his chair behind his desk! Oh! It felt great killing someone again! Well, then Trixie tried to have a bit fun, so said we should sit back to back for fun. It was the most fun I had in weeks. I don't think she enjoyed it though. I said we could hang out a bit, but over spoke my tongue again and accidently called her Quirrell, it made her mad… _again_.

**_SIGH_**

I must say, I have been feeling very ashamed of myself and guilty over the past few weeks, because of what I did to Quirrell. He was the first friend I ever had, and I used him and sent him off to Azkaban… Hey! I just had the greatest idea! I should write a letter from the ministry, since I am the minister, to Azkaban which would claim that Quirrell is innocent! Then maybe he might just forgive me, and even if he doesn't, at least he'll be free and happy.

Sorry diary, SHIT! Journal, I got distracted for a minute or two. One of my men just came in and I had to jump of my chair to hide you. He informed me that Albus Dumbledore is dead and we can attack Hogwarts right away! I'm so excited! I'll finally kill Potter, maybe that will fill this emptiness inside me…

I'm just going to leave the Azkaban release letter on my desk for when I come back.

See ya soon!

**_Evil Kisses!_**

**_Voldie 3_**


	13. Chapter 13: Free and Okay

**Hi guys, just note that this chapter isn't quoted from the musical much. It's my version of how it went. there's a few quotes from She's All That, every QUirrelmort fan should have seen this movie before. And since I haven't done this in a while DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything, y'know all that jazz. I own Millicent though**

**(Note: this chapter is last of 7 chapters I posted in a row, just make sure you read those first!) HERE WE GO!**

Chapter 13

Quirrell stood on the black beach of Azkaban looking out on the dead North Sea. He was just recovering from what you might call: disbelief. A few remarkable yet tragic things happened in the past 15 minutes. Quirrell couldn't believe it nor could he see how he could live with it.

The first thing was something Quirrell didn't think he'd see in 24 years. A man with silver hair and the ministry's uniform had came to deliver Quirrell's release papers. He didn't want believe it, why would he be released and left without patrol? He didn't know if he'd be able to live outside in the Wizarding world again.

The second thing was what Quirrell had thought while he walked from the dark ghastly gate and receiving back his wand and clothes. Did Voldemort turn himself in? Quirrell didn't want to believe it, and even if it was true, would Quirrell be able to live with the fact that Voldemort was in Azkaban? Would he be able to live without Voldemort?

The third, and last, thing was the thing Quirrell couldn't believe, and knew he wouldn't be able to live with. But it was a fact. The Dark lord is dead, destroyed once and for all by The Boy who lived.

Quirrell stared out to the Horizon, rearranging his thoughts. Usually a released prisoner would wonder what they're going to do with their lives or how the people would treat them. Not Quirrell, to him those thoughts were far away, the next step. Right at that moment his mind was filled with grief and anger.

"Dead?" he shouted into the wind, and threw his belongings onto the ground. Falling down onto his knees on the black sand, he picked up the nearest round rock and skipped it onto the water. He watched it skip twice and quickly sinking to the surface, just like his life. First skip: he managed to find the Dark lord. Second skip: they became friends, best friends. Sinking: he was betrayed and thrown into Azkaban. Hit the surface: Voldemort is dead.

He curled up into a small ball, feeling he could die. That's when he remembered, dementors. Slowly he felt the air grow cold. He could hear the ghastly whisper advancing towards him. With the last bit of will to live he crawled to his wand lying in front of him. He grasped it and pointed it to the sky. "Expecto…"

What to think about…

What to think about…

**_…Hey Quirrell_**

**_…Quirrell…_**

**_…Come on Quirrell!_**

**_…Yes I know Quirrell!_**

A small smile crept to his face, it felt unusual.

"… patronum."

A faint light emerged from his wand and twirled and twisted in the sky. Quirrell let out a soft chortle. He never conjured a patronus before, he tried, but never had a happy feeling to think of.

He stared at the blue light to see what it'd form. Quirrell stood in awe looking at the blue mist forming a Japanese beetle. The beetle crawled around the mist, which if you look carefully form a rose itself.

The cold air was gone and Quirrell felt okay for the first time in what felt like years, though Quirrell slowly started to lose his joy again as he looked at the beetle, sitting on the back of the rose, devouring its leaves one by one. He dropped to his knees again and the patronus disappeared.

His sobs were silent and muffled and could be heard all the way across the beach. He lied on his side in silence staring across the sea again. The suddenly something flew over his head. At first he thought it was dementors, but he realized that it wasn't getting colder at all. Then he saw it.

Just a few feet away from Quirrell sat a blue familiar raven. Quirrell frowned in confusion. "Millicent?" he said to the bird that acted and looked like his very own little raven back home which he found on Christmas.

But this wasn't Millicent, it was somebody's patronus. Quirrell thought whose patronus it might be, nobody else really knew about the raven's existence except for... He felt eyes bearing down on him from behind. Tears welled up in his eyes and he had trouble breathing as he swung around to face the figure in white behind him.

"Hey you…" Voldemort said.

Quirrell gasped for air as a whole lot of emotions raced through his mind, the one that won the race though, was anger. Quirrell reached for his wand but realized Voldemort had it, so he threw the nearest rock at Voldemort, hitting him on the shoulder. Voldemort dropped Quirrell's wand. **_Great, it's not an illusion…_**

"What are you doing here? Why did you come back again? What more can you possibly take away from me since you already took my dignity, my life, my career and my wand?" Quirrell shouted at him. Voldemort didn't know what to say. "Well I… I had to come see if the release forms… I wanted to see you… the Weasley kid took my wand…"

Quirrell looked at him and cooled down a bit. "So you came back?!" he yelled again. Voldemort looked into Quirrell's eyes and gave him a soft smile and said "I came home…"

Quirrell turned from Voldemort and bit his finger, trying not to cry and not to look at him, that smile was just too much for Quirrell. The corner of his mouth curled up into a grin as he avoided Voldemort's face.

Voldemort walked to Quirrell but kept his distance. "Quirrell… last time we spoke you said you never saw the end of She's All That, but I'm pretty glad you haven't, because that means that you won't know that what I'm about to say might just be a major spoiler to the movie's dialogue at the end." Voldemort said. Quirrell looked at Voldemort and grinned.

There was a short pause before Voldemort spoke.

"You know I made that plan before I knew you Quirrell, before I really knew me." Voldemort said with a serious face looking Quirrell straight in the eyes. Quirrell, who've at least heard the last part of the movie, crossed his arms, ready for a quote challenge.

"What was the exact plan anyway? What did you end up loosing?"

Not knowing weather it'd make sense, Voldemort answered in quote anyway.

"…My best friend. He taught me a lot. For him I thought we had to have all of the answers right now…"

Quirrell frowned. Voldemort laughed "Yeah that didn't make sense at all…"

Quirrell gave Voldemort a faint smile and turned around from Voldemort again. "So… you don't want to kill Harry Potter anymore?" he asked coldly, but reassuring. Voldemort sighed and answered. "No… because I learned something when I got my body back Quirrell. I learned that life is really messy and complicated, and that it doesn't always turn out the way that you think it will… and that…

"You think killing people might make them like you but it doesn't, it just makes people dead. And when everyone else is dead, you're all alone." Voldemort said. "So I sat there, alone, and a reached into my pocket and found a rose, a red one."

Quirrell's corners of his mouth twitched into a hopeful smile. Voldemort continued "That's when I realized that there was something missing in my life. There was an emptiness that power and murder can't fill. I needed friendship, which was something very scarce to me. I wanted to change my ways but then…" He paused for a moment and then gave a half-hearted smile.

"… then I died." He said. Quirrell looked at Voldemort with wonder in his eyes. "But how did you..." He didn't finish. He didn't really know how to ask that question, but Voldemort understood.

"Quirrell, there's a part of me still here, and I can't go on to the next life without it. It's a part of me that can't be destroyed because it's right in here." He said moving to Quirrell and placing his hand on his heart. Voldemort, feeling awkward, backed off and left him some space again.

"In my heart?" Quirrell asked with a slight crack in his voice. Voldemort just gave him a friendly nod.

"I'm sorry Quirrell… I've been a lousy and awful friend…"

Quirrell smiled truly for what felt like the first time. "Everybody deserves a second chance in life, weather you're a pathetic loner professor, or a terrible disgusting back-stabbing cheating lying selfish cruel-

"Okay I get it, sorry!"

"Apology accepted." Quirrell said jokingly. Voldemort felt happy again, now that he had his friend back.

All this being a bit emotional and unusual to Voldemort made him change the mood a bit. "Well Quirrell, this is all very grand, but what are we supposed to do now." He said, sitting onto the black sands of the beach, feeling a bit less worthless, but still nonetheless. "Well, we can't go back, to the Wizarding world that is…" Quirrell said, hoping Voldemort would understand what he meant. "So we'll go to the muggle world, so what. At least all will be okay again."

Quirrell felt relieved that Voldemort was okay with it.

He hesitated for a moment then asked slowly.

"Is okay good?"

Voldemort turned to Quirrell, smiling happily.

"Quirrell…

"Okay is wonderful!"

**NOTE: This is not the end, I still want to fill the gap and answer a few questions of AVPSY, for excample: Why was Quirrell and Volemort back to back again? And the hidden horcrox?**

**See you guys in a few... I don't know. I can't promise anything since I'm working from my mother's computer.**

**Sophie**


	14. Chapter 14: Leaving Life Behind

Chapter 14

"Sir, this is your lucky day." The real-estate agent said, handing paper work to his client, who was wearing a strange hat of sorts. "It's not every day that you get a house for this price with two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a nice kitchen and living area. Now if you'd just sign this few things it'll all be yours." He told his client. The client signed the papers as the agent continued, "I trust your furniture will be delivered in no time sir?" he asked looking around in the empty house. The client gave him a friendly nod and handed him back the paper work.

The agent took it with a bright smile on his face and greeted his client "Good day sir, I hope you enjoy your stay in Centurion." He said. "Thank you, good bye." The client said, leading the agent outside and shook his hand before the agent got in the car and left.

Quirrell turned around and looked at the first house he bought, though he didn't sell the apartment in Diagon Alley since he wouldn't be able to use galleons anymore. He bought the house with the muggle money he inherited from his father who lived in South Africa after his father died. Though the money isn't worth much in other countries, it had to do and was enough for this house.

He stepped onto his front door's porch; Quirrell then took out his wand and waved it twice in the air. This didn't seem to leave any effect, but as soon as he opened the door the house was filled his own furniture. He tapped his wand to the door frame and muttered "Splittrificus", the door frame then adapted the slightest purple glow. Quirrell then walked through the door. He removed his famous turban and ran his fingers through his hair. He turned around to greet his company.

"You can come in. What do you think?" he asked spreading his arms wide. Voldemort rested against the doorframe, which the glow has worn off from, and examined the room. He nodded and smiled "Not bad at all. You know, with the money you could salvage from what you inherited from your father… not bad at all."

"How do you feel?" Quirrell asked Voldemort while Voldemort walked into the house. Voldemort stopped and gave Quirrell a confused expression. "I mean after the splitting process. I know this has probably been the sixth time we've used it, but it's the first spell I've created and I don't know if it has any glitches." Quirrell explained. "Well Quirrell, besides the fact that my whole bottom half feels like it is wearing off from a stunning spell, great!" he answered, starching out his back.

"Wow Quirrell, this spell really came in handy for the few times we have used it." Voldemort said, entering the house. "Yes! Seems all that sleepless nights figuring it out finally paid off, let's just hope we don't have to use it much, I really like not sharing my body, no offence." Quirrell said. "None taken." Voldemort replied quickly. Quirrell smiled at him and headed to the living room. He took out his wand and started doing what he did best, decorating the living room. Voldemort grinned and shook his head at Quirrell typical act and went to the kitchen.

When he opened the fridge he found that all the groceries were already packed in their places. This reminded Voldemort yet again what a marvellous wizard Quirrell was. Voldemort took two mugs from the cupboard and clicked the button on the kettle for the water to boil. The appliances were all very foreign to Voldemort, he wasn't used to electricity as is has no use in the Wizarding world, but since they lived like muggles they thought it wouldn't be too bad to have had the usual stuff; TV, Microwave oven, a telephone etc.

When the water was ready he poured it in the mugs and prepared coffee for himself and Quirrell. Voldemort smirked while he was pouring in Quirrell's milk and sugar, both of them had a sweet tooth, but Quirrell took three teaspoons while Voldemort only took one and a half. He stirred the mugs with magic while he walked to the living room just to find that Quirrell wasn't there. He assumed Quirrell went to his room.

The house was rather small, but comfy. If you walk through the front door you'll stand in a small foyer which lead to the living area on your left and the kitchen to your right. The living area also had a dining table in the one corner and in the other corner a door to a small hallway. Down the hallway the first door on your right was a bathroom and Quirrell's room, then a staircase which leads to Voldemort's room and another bathroom, and also leads to the attic which they now used as a study and store place for their Wizard objects.

They barely made themselves comfortable in their new rooms before Quirrell had to leave again. "I'll be back in a while." He said. "I just have to go back to Hogwarts to pick up a few things." He grabbed his coat and headed for the front door. Voldemort however stopped him in time. "A few things?" he asked eyeing Quirrell.

"Yes, strange isn't it? I hardly had anything there which I would have minded to take home, but Scarfy, the scarf of sexual preference, said he had a package for me." Quirrell told him. He Quirrell took his coat and headed was nearly out the door when Voldemort stopped him again. "Scarfy? Why would he want to give you something?"

Quirrell shrugged his shoulders. "Don't really know. We had a few chats in my school years, but I really… don't know." Quirrell then apperated from his house's foyer, leaving Voldemort with two mugs of coffee.

"What do you want? You have no business here anymore!" Filch waved his lantern at Quirrell in irritation. Quirrell raised his hands to the old squib. He just apperated to Hogwarts and he had expected this from whoever was guarding the gate that day. "Hey chill old fellow!" Quirrell directed to Filch, getting annoyed by the old man's ways, Filch never was nice to Quirrell in his Hogwarts years.

Filch snorted at Quirrell and practically spat at him "Well mister Quirrell you seriously had attitude change! From stuttering sissy to the arrogant demanding di—" "Excuse me sir! But I believe that kind of language isn't allowed on school grounds!" Quirrell interrupted Filch in the middle of his insulting sentence. Filch got really angry and charged at Quirrell.

"Yeah! Well so is harbouring a dark wizard on the back of your head!" He shouted at Quirrell. Quirrell clenched his fist in anger. Filch could insult Quirrell in any way he wanted, but if he brought Voldemort into it, then it just pisses Quirrell off. However Quirrell didn't come to Hogwarts to beat up the old janitor, all though he would maybe put that on the calendar for another time.

"Listen! I have no intention of setting foot in this castle ever again! I just came to retrieve a package which Scarfy left me here." Quirrell placed his fists in his pockets and stood a bit taller. Filch glared at Quirrell before turning to the little security house, minutes later he came back with a package in his hands. He shoved the package into Quirrell's arms and without another word Quirrell left.

**_Wow, that went faster than I thought it would _**Quirrell thought by himself as he looked back at Hogwarts, hopefully for the last time. He glanced to the side which showed a bit of the Forbidden Forest, smiled happily at how his life changed since he made that one choice, and apperated home.

Quirrell popped back into his foyer. He was busy studying the packaging when he heard faint swears from the living room. He walked into the room to find Voldemort having troubles with the telly. "You okay there tough guy?" Quirrell joked to Voldemort, who just gave him a tired look. "NO! Ugh! I can't get this thing to work! The manual said there's supposed to be a 'remote', you know, like a muggle wand!" Voldemort ranted.

Quirrell suddenly remembered the TV's packaging was still at the bottom of his wardrobe. "I think it might still be in the box. You wait here, I'll quickly get it." Quirrell, taking his package with him, quickly ran upstairs to get the remote. He came into his room and walked to his wardrobe. He swung opened the average sized wardrobe doors to reveal a giant walk in dressing room.

It wasn't exactly Narnia, but it was heaven to Quirrell!

"I love magic!" he said, a huge grin escaped his lips. He advanced towards the load of boxes in the corner, and you could blame it on dumb luck, the TV's box was at the bottom of the stack. Quirrell grunted and carefully moved the top boxes, without magic. He opened the TV box to find the bloody remote just lying in the bottom of the box. He reached down and took the remote.

Quirrell quickly stacked the boxes back in order, after making sure he hasn't forgotten anything else, and he then left the wardrobe to go back to the living room.

Though Quirrell left convinced he hadn't forgotten anything, he had accidently placed the package in one of the many boxes, and completely forgot about it.


	15. Chapter 15: Familiar Friends

**Yay! My laptop's internet works again, sort off. Excuse is there is mistakes in chapter 14, I can't check errors on my browser, it's a bit glitchy. Well, enjoy this short, but full of Quirrelmort fluff chapter!**

Chapter 15

Quirrell and Voldemort sat in front of their now one-day-old installed television eating ordered pizza. They were watching a "candid camera" show and were laughing their behinds off at a cat running on its forelegs. "How is that even possible?" Quirrell asked in between laughs. Voldemort then gave him a long explanation of how when cats run to fast sometimes their back legs are too slow for the front. Quirrell gave him an absent look and slowly nodded. "That was a rhetorical question." Quirrell stated which just made them laugh more.

"Oh Quirrell, you're so cute when you're funny…" Voldemort said which all though it didn't make sense, made Quirrell blush tickle pink. Quirrell turned away from Voldemort to avoid his gaze, and took another slice of pizza. The cheese was still a bit sticky and stretched as Quirrell pulled the slice away from the others. Voldemort thought this looked quite disgusting, because he wasn't used to eating pizza.

Voldemort cringed and because he had no nose to crinkle, there were just slight crinkles between his blue eyes. Quirrell giggled at Voldemort's face. "Oh Voldemort, you're so cute when you're disgusted!" he joked, though Quirrell did daze off for a moment.

_Oh those eyes… you're just so damn cute!_

"Hello? Earth to Quirrell! Come in Quirrell!" Voldemort shouted waving his hands in front of Quirrell's face. Quirrell didn't exactly snap out of it. "Yeah?" he just murmured. Voldemort, seeing that Quirrell was deep in thought about, well, something, kept talking.

"So, you went to Hogwarts yesterday. What was it then?" Voldemort asked Quirrell, still curious about what Quirrell got. Quirrell, still in daze mode, reluctantly replied "Oh, nothing, it was, a, uuuh… mistake." He finished and foolishly smiled. "Oookay." Voldemort narrowed his eyes and looked at Quirrell with a slightly worried expression.

With a few winks Quirrell snapped out of it. Quirrell awkwardly looked around the room, gave Voldemort a nervous smile and left to the kitchen to go get some drinks.

Quirrell stood in the kitchen in front of the fridge looking at a muggle photo on the fridge of him and Voldemort posing in front of their new house which they took the day before. Quirrell closed his eyes and slammed his head against the fridge, trying to remember the past few minutes. As if slamming your head would help. Quirrell decided to forget it and got the drinks.

Quirrell resumed his seat on the couch and gave Voldemort his lemon juice. Voldemort then asked another question, and Quirrell was sure to pay attention that time. "Do you, uh, have plans for a job?"

Quirrell smiled and put his drink down on the coffee table. "Yes, in fact I've been looking at job opportunities for me ever since we… started over." Quirrell gladly told Voldemort. Though Quirrell would very much like to stay home and tend to his garden, but as Voldemort wouldn't really be able to live between muggles with his… looks, Quirrell took it upon himself to provide income.

"I actually saw one quite near here as a book store clerk. I already sent them my résumé, which isn't much, but since I'm only 23, it isn't really an issue." Quirrell said. "Yeah! You know, it's interesting, when you took me on at the beginning of last year I took on your age, which lucky for me, because technically I'm 72!" Something about Voldemort cheery tone seemed to scare Quirrell who just absently smiled and nodded.

Quirrell inside made a few knots and he quickly grabbed his drink again and downed the whole glass. "…Seventy two! Ha ha… nice…"

Two days later Quirrell walked into the book store for his "interview" to be a book store clerk. He was greeted by the counter by an old guy with a beard, with a striped out-of-fashion shirt. Quirrell cringed at the man's sad style, never mind smell. Even Quirrell who lived his entire life in wizard clothes had a well supply of fashionable muggle clothing. "Hi my name is Bert Frey, the manager. You must be the new guy, Mister Quirinus Quirrell right?" the guy asked and greeted enthusiastically. Quirrell nodded, not used to being addressed as "Mister". "Yes mister Frey." He answered nervously. "Hey Quirinus, chill, you can just call me Bert."

Quirrell smiled and nodded. "You can just call me Quirrell, strangely my best friend calls me that." Bert gave him a confused look. "Friend? Like singular… You're new here right? I recognize you're accent isn't South African, more British correct?" he asked Quirrell, who again just nodded. He hoped this wasn't the interview, because Bert should already have known that he was from London. "Well, Quirrell, I just have a few questions.

"Do you smoke?"

"Heavens, no!"

"What kind of books do you read most?"

"Plants, hobbies and fantasy. I had started reading comics too."

"Do you believe in magic?"

"Uh… n… no."

"Interesting! Do you support gay rights?"

_Okaaay, now 'm creeped out… _"Yeeeah, why?" Quirrell couldn't help but ask. Bert gave him a funny look and answered, "Oh, no reason..." Quirrell just awkwardly nodded.

"Well Quirrell! Welcome to Exlusive Readers! Can you start on Monday, not that it's a problem, we just, the more staff the more breaks!" Bert grinned and gave Quirrell a thumbs-up. Quirrell smiled brightly, happy that he's wanted without begging to get a job. "You'll find yourself right at home, I'm sure. And we're all going to be friends, there's total of six of us now, you'll have a few new friends!" Bert assured him.

"Thank you Bert, I'll see you on Monday!" Quirrell bid his goodbye and stepped out of the tiny office. It was nothing compared to the magnificent office of Albus Dumbledore, he actually misses the old man. Though he thinks he'll be fast friends with this new Bert fellow, who strangely seemed vaguely familiar…


	16. Chapter 16: Nobody nose who I am

Chapter 16

"I'm home!" Quirrell chanted as he popped into the house. He just finished a day's work at the book store and apperated back home from the women's bathroom, he thought that way nothing would look strange. A man who walked into the ladies' room and never came out must have been an illusion of the mind.

Voldemort was busy cooking in the kitchen as Quirrell came home, and asked "Hey Quirrell! So, how was your second day at the book store?" Quirrell reluctantly replied, "It was as boring as the first. Ugh, this really makes me miss the job at Hogwarts, even if it was the Defence against the Dark Arts post." He paused for a moment and then smiled at Voldemort. "But then again, back then I didn't have someone to come home to."

Voldemort smiled back and continued cooking. "What's cookin'?" Quirrell asked, peeking over Voldemort's shoulder. "I, uh, actually don't know. I saw the recipe on the tellie and thought it'd be nice, even though I'm still new the whole cooking thing, especially working without a wand." Voldemort sighed. Quirrell dug into his pocket and took out his. "Well, you can always use mine. I don't use it much, except for apperation." Quirrell handed Voldemort his wand.

Voldemort took the wand and gave Quirrell a reassuring look. "Quirrell… you sure you won't need it? I mean, how will you get transportation home?" Voldemort asked Quirrell in concern. Quirrell shrugged his shoulders, "I'll find a way."

There was a silence for a moment before Quirrell got an idea. "What about you drop me off at work with apperation, then just come back home and later pick me up again?" Quirrell suggested. Voldemort looked unsure of the idea. "I don't know. I'd rather stay home without the wand." He said and offered the wand back to Quirrell. Quirrell looked at it from Voldemort, but didn't take the wand.

"Why don't you want to go into a small public place? It's really not even that public."

"I don't want people to see me."

"Are you afraid of getting caught again? Because it's perfectly safe there."

"No! Listen, I just… even if we apperated to some small corner of the shopping centrum, I… I don't think people are used to…" Voldemort trailed off, but ended up not really stating a clear answer. Quirrell started realising what was wrong but kept quiet and waited for Voldemort to finish. Voldemort finally spoke. "Can I ask you a favour?"

Quirrell smiled happily and answered, "Why of course, I mean, after all I've done already this is sort of becoming a habit, as long as you don't want to be attached again!" Voldemort laughed at Quirrell. "No, don't worry, that won't happen too much in the future. I just wondered if you would be able to transfigure me nose." Voldemort asked.

"Well… why would you want a nose? You're usually so proud that you don't have one, because it shows you're The Heir of Slytherin. I think it is what makes you special. It's what separated you from all the other ordinary people. If you think people might recognize you and call the Wizard Cops I assure you, it won't happen." Quirrell told Voldemort and placed and hand on his shoulder. Voldemort hid his face from Quirrell and didn't want to speak at first, but then he lifted his face and looked Quirrell in the eyes.

"Quirrell, you don't know what it's like to stay cautious and hidden from the world, weather you're a criminal or a freak-orphan, just because you don't have a nose. In the orphanage I wasn't around people like you, people like us, wizards who are used to seeing strange-looking people. I lived between muggle children. They always taunted me because of my nose. The pale skin they could live with, because there's enough emo kids in the world, but they really hated me because of my nose. So I always had to stay hidden in my room, which nobody wanted to share with me, from the other kids for hours and only came out to eat.

"I don't want to live like that anymore. And I can't go out looking like this. People discriminate even more as they grow up, just because they have learned more and more reasons to. I just want to go through a crowd, not as an ordinary person, but not as a nose-less freak either."

When he finished Quirrell nodded understandingly. "Voldemort, I understand, but to tell the truth I don't know if I'm able to transfigure a nose. In order to transfigure something there must be something to transfigure. I can't just let a nose pop up onto your face out of nowhere. I'm sorry" Voldemort's shoulders dropped. "Okay." He uttered with a cracked voice.

Suddenly Quirrell did something quite unusual. He placed a finger between Voldemort's eyes and felt around the area where the nose should have been. "Uh, Quirrell, what are you doing?" Voldemort asked, confused and creeped out. Quirrell then started explaining to Voldemort in his teacher voice, "The skin around the nose area isn't sunken in, so there ought to be some kind of bone of sorts which ought to resemble to the bridge-bone of a nose." Quirrell stopped between Voldemort's eyes again. "And yes, there is a bone quite like that."

There was a spark oh hope in Voldemort's eyes. "So there is something to transfigure?" Voldemort asked excitedly. Quirrell sighed and frowned. "Sadly the bone is still solidly attached to your skull, and I'm afraid that if I transfigure the bone your whole face would turn into… a nose." Quirrell explained. "So there really isn't anything you could do…"

Quirrell then had a bright idea. "Well… I do have an idea that might work…" Quirrell slightly smiled.

"What? What is it?"

"I'm sorry… this might hurt… a lot."

Then Quirrell did what he didn't think he'd ever do. He punched Voldemort square on the nose. Voldemort fell backwards onto the floor. Blood gushed from his nostrils as he cried in pain, for a moment Quirrell panicked. "Oh my Godric! Are you okay?!" He shouted and then pulled himself together and jumped back into action. Kneeling down he started his work.

"OW! What was that for!?" Voldemort cried trying to cover his nose. "It was necessary for what I want to do. Take your hands away from your nose and breathe through your mouth slowly." Quirrell ordered Voldemort. Quirrell quickly felt between Voldemort's eyes to find the bone was indeed broken. _Great it worked!_

He then took his own wand from Voldemort's pocked and started transfiguring the bone. "Hold still. Okay, what I did was break the nose, so now I can transfigure it knowing the rest of your skull will be fine. I'll fix it up after I'm finished, don't worry." He quickly explained to Voldemort, who couldn't keep quiet. In between breaths Voldemort still managed to complain. "Don't worry? Agh! Quirrell! This is very painful… you better hope it works!"

"I promise it will!" Quirrell felt hurt, because of Voldemort's lack of faith in him, but quickly finished the job. With a quick cleaning charm he removed the blood. "_Episkey_!" he shouted, casting the spell which hit Voldemort between the eyes. With a crack his new bridge-bone mended to his skull, making the new nose look exceptionally ordinary. Voldemort rubbed his fingers up and down his nose.

His face beamed with happiness and joy, but faded when he looked to Quirrell who sat with an angry hurt expression. "Why didn't you trust me Voldemort? Did you really think I'd just break your nose and destroy your face? I might not be a healer, but I what I'm doing. I'm not a stupid or ignorant wizard who just jumps into something without thinking it through." Quirrell shouted, hurt, with his voice cracking.

Voldemort eyes softened with guilt and he sat up and swung his arms around Quirrell. "Oh Quirrell, I'm sorry I snapped, I just had a bit of a fright and couldn't think straight. I know you know what you're doing. You are an amazing wizard, even if I might be the only one who thinks so, and I assure you I'm not. Thank you for the nose. I couldn't thank you more for everything you've done for me and it was wrong for me to underestimate you." Voldemort hugged Quirrell tightly.

To Quirrell the hug was enough of an explanation, because he was already fully set in daze mode, grinning and staring off into space like he was seeing a bunch of Martians.

Voldemort pulled away and with this Quirrell snapped out of daze mode. Voldemort smiled at Quirrell and Quirrell looked proud at his work.

"Wow Quirrell! This is a great nose! You really did an amazing job!" Voldemort praised Quirrell as he examined his new nose in front of the mirror in his room. Quirrell stood in the frame of the door happily watching Voldemort making faces into the mirror. "Where did you get the idea of this perfectly sculpted and sized nose Quirrell?" Voldemort asked. "Oh, earlier at work today one of my colleagues, who is a huge fan of comics, watched this funny parody musical of Batman on his laptop, and I thought the guy who played Bruce Wayne sort of looked like you, so I transfigured it to look like his nose."

Voldemort's face stretched into a huge grin and then he growled into a dark tough voice, "I'm Batmaaan…"

Quirrell laughed at Voldemort's comedic expression. "Yes, well you surely dress like him, mister all-black. What about we go shopping this weekend? It's the least you can do for me!"

Voldemort wanted to argue, but seeing as he sort of owned Quirrell a bit more than a bit, he agreed.

**I just want to say, sorry if you don't like that Voldemort now has a beautifully permanent JOE WALKER nose. I had to make a few changes because, 1. It's part of the whole "Starting over and changing", and 2. It's just really getting hard for my to imagine Joe Walker without a nose, I mean, why would I want to destroy such a perfect picture? ;)**


	17. Chapter 17: Shopping!

Chapter 17

Quirrell squealed like a little school girl as they passed the shoe store. "Oh my gosh! Voldemort! I HAVE TO HAVE THOSE SHOES!" Voldemort rolled his eyes at his friend's funny remark. "Now Quirrell, you know we can't do that. We only have an hour to quickly stop by the clothing store before it closes for tonight." Voldemort gave Quirrell a pat on the back. Quirrell simply looked up at Voldemort with puppy dog eyes and pouted his lips tightly. Voldemort just shook his head and smiled.

"How 'bout you go tomorrow in one of your breaks, we're pressed for time." He said, tapping his watch. Quirrell reluctantly sighed and peered himself away from the shoes in the window, softly murmuring "But, but, they so pretty…"

Quirrell and Voldemort entered the store, lucky to find that it was nearly empty. The woman behind nearly had a heart attack seeing Voldemort. Quirrell panicked for a moment thinking she might think he's some kind of freak, but that wasn't the case at all. "Why!? Why do you wear that?!" she shouted at Voldemort. He grabbed his black shirt's front and looked at the lady in confusion. "Wear what?" he asked, taken off guard.

"All of that!" She said, pointing at all his clothes. "You're just wearing black. Black, black, black! Black shirt, black pants, black socks, black shoes, let me guess! You are also wearing black underwear?" she shouted. Voldemort looked offended. Quirrell nearly burst with laughter. He thought Voldemort might say something about his fabulous capes, but he didn't, instead he just stood gaping at the lady.

She gave him a look of pity. "Come with me love. I'll cure you of your misery." She said and gestured them to follow her. "I guess your boyfriend brought you here to pick out a new wardrobe, since, I must say, his is just absolutely fabulous—

"HE'S NOT MY BOYFRIEND!" Voldemort exclaimed, flushing red in his face. Quirrell snickered at his remark and vulnerability. "Oh… I'm sorry. To him that is. I mean, you have a very sexy body, and he definitely is gay, by the look of his wardrobe, oh, stunning. I'm sure he would love to take you in his arms and—

"I'm sure that's enough!" Quirrell stopped her. He was then the one completely red in the face. Without another word she led them to the dressing rooms, smiling at Quirrell as they went along. She clearly knew something he didn't know.

She then picked out several outfits for Voldemort to try on. After trying on the first outfit, Voldemort came out to give them a spin. The first outfit was a very baggy jean and a black sleeveless shirt. Voldemort looked very uncomfortable, even though the shirt showed off his biceps, the pant wasn't something he'd ever wear. Quirrell gave one look at Voldemort and showed a thumbs-down.

The second outfit was a half sleeve dark blue button shirt with stripes, which was tucked into short brown pants with brown shoes. Voldemort didn't even stay in front of Quirrell for more than fifteen seconds, because Quirrell's face said it all. Quirrell burst out laughing as Voldemort sprinted back into the fitting room.

The third outfit was a formal black suit. Though Voldemort didn't like the pants, or shirt, or tie… he absolutely loved the shiny black shoes. They were for dancing he said, and showed off a few funky dance moves for Quirrell. Quirrell clapped and laughed with Voldemort as he danced across the floor. The store lady eyed Quirrell without him seeing.

Voldemort tried on a few more outfits, which were also crying bores. There was a few clothing pieces Voldemort liked, but not many of the outfits was his style.

After about seven outfits the store lady lost it and gave up. "Okay. This is entertaining and all, but I can't help you further. Pick out a few thing quickly, I'm closing in 20 minutes." She said, looking at her watch. Then she threw a look at Quirrell. "Though… can I quickly speak to you in privet?"

Quirrell followed her out of the fitting rooms till they were standing well out of range from Voldemort. "Listen kid. I've seen a lot of gay guys in my day, and I mean a shit load of gays. I've seen every shape and size from here to the next clothing store. Though none of them were so very obviously gay as you are!" Quirrell was ready to give her a proper bitch slap as he stood gaping in anger. "But! I fully respect you, because you have an amazing stunning wardrobe. Okay? Well. Now this other guy…" She pointed at Voldemort, "…he needs help. So I'm gonna leave you to picking out his outfits since you clearly know what he likes.

"Hey kid, just… stop staring at him like he is a super model." She finished and motioned Quirrell back to where Voldemort was standing. Slightly annoyed, Quirrell just curtly nodded and walked back out to Voldemort.

His frown turned into a grin as he saw Voldemort looking at a pair of tight spandex black pants and skinny jeans. Voldemort nervously glanced around as he took the jeans and spandex pants and walked into the fitting room on his own. Quirrell beamed with pride and sneaked into the fitting rooms to make sure he'll get a first glance at whatever Voldemort was putting together in there.

A few minutes later, before Voldemort emerged from his dressing room, he popped his head out between the curtains and nervously glanced around the fitting rooms. He didn't see Quirrell and figured it was safe to go check himself out in front of the large mirrors.

Quirrell became weak in the knees when he saw what Voldemort wore. He was dressed in the black sleeveless shirt with the dark blue striped shirt over, unbuttoned, which hung over a black-blue skinny jean, but not too tight, with the black shoes he so loved.

Quirrell hopped from his hiding place and applauded Voldemort loudly. "Oh my… Voldemort! You look so… wow! I'm so proud of you! You picked this out all on your own!" Quirrell fussed over Voldemort as he quickly threw together a few more outfits of the same fashion in different shades, to make a full wardrobe. "You need something, things, to wear when it gets colder." Quirrell advised him, taking a black leather jacket on sale and a white and grey striped hoodie, and waved it in front of Voldemort, who just agreed and nodded/

Voldemort looked very happy with himself as he walked out of the fitting room to the counter. The store lady nearly dropped the clothes she was hanging on hangers. "Wow! You do know how to… I take it back." She said, flustered by Voldemort's… well… everything.

They paid for the new clothes and left the store just before the lady closed the doors behind them.

"You look quite happy with yourself." Quirrell said to Voldemort. Voldemort looked at Quirrell and smiled. "Well, I would not have been able to do it if you haven't stood as an inspiration!"

"Me? And inspiration?" Quirrell laughed. "Wait till everybody hears the Dark lord has a gay guy as an inspiration!" Quirrell joked.

"No Quirrell, I'm not that anymore… I'm starting over now, completely, from scratch. Someday I'll maybe get a new identity, a driver's licence. You too, you know! And in time, we might meet the loves of our lives. You'll get yourself a nice guy…

"And I'll get a nice lady."

"A lady…" Quirrell's heart fell onto to the floor and shattered. He gulped down the lump in his throat and walked on back to the men's bathroom to apperated home… with Voldemort at his arm.


End file.
